The Darkness Within
by Jane Elliott
Summary: After a federal agent is shot in a little town called Twin Peaks, Fritz asks Brenda and Gabriel to interrogate the suspects. Soon the entire PHD team is drawn into the investigation, as Brenda learns that nothing is what it seems. Brenda/Gabriel UST.
1. Chapter 1

First, the warning: nothing explicit happens in this fic, but everything that happens in canon Twin Peaks comes up in the course of the investigation (and Twin Peaks is not kind to women). You do not have to have watched Twin Peaks to understand this fic (in fact, it's best if you haven't, otherwise you'll probably find the mystery to be rather dull), but be warned that this fic spoils nearly the entire first season of TP.

Obviously, this story goes AU after season one for both The Closer and Twin Peaks. As I haven't seen Fire Walk With Me, the prologue is entirely AU as well.

ETA: I don't usually push for reviews (if you want to leave them, I absolutely love to get them, but that's not why I write), but this is such a tiny fandom that I'm having a tough time getting any feedback at all. Since I'm in the planning stage of writing a sequel to _The Darkness Within _(right now it looks like it'll be a crossover between The Closer and Veronica Mars), I'd really like to know what people are getting out of this fic. Hopefully that will help me determine whether my writing is effectively telling the story I mean to be telling. So, please, leave a review if you read TDW, especially if you choose not to read past the first chapter. Thank you!

**The Darkness Within**

If Laura Palmer had known she was going to die that night, she probably wouldn't have spent Friday's study hall finishing up her weekend homework. Seventh period study hall was a joke anyway; Mr. Williams had given up on any pretense of enforced academia early on in the year and now simply required his students to be silent as they slacked off. The end result was usually a flurry of note passing and hushed card games.

Unlike the others, however, Laura really couldn't afford to put her school work off. Between tutoring Johnny Horne, preparing for Josie Packard's English lessons, obligatory dates with Bobby, real dates with James, and spending time with Donna, Laura was swamped on the weekends. Add in her night shifts at One Eyed Jacks and the occasional jobs she did for Jacques, and she didn't have a moment to spare.

In reality, she had less than a moment to spare and even with the cocaine to ease her stress, she was at a breaking point. Something was going to have to give. Unfortunately, the one thing that was best for her was the easiest for her to give up. She was planning on ending it with James tonight, before she went off for a 'party' with Jacques. Jacques had mentioned Leo was going to be there, and Laura felt a flash of heat low in her belly, even as a thrill of anxiety ran across her nerves.

The bell rang, and she was grateful for the distraction as she slid her books into her backpack. She had to hurry; these days if she didn't make it into the parking lot within a few minutes of the bell, Bobby was likely to leave her behind rather than wait.

She got lucky, as she bumped into Bobby in the hallway. He gave her a wink and slid his hand into her jeans pocket. Laura felt the small bag he left behind and her smile got several degrees more genuine. Her supply had been running low.

Bobby was apparently in a good mood today; he draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked outside and offered her a wide smile as he steered her towards his car. It'd been a long time since he'd smiled at her like that; under its warm glow she could almost remember why she'd dated him in the first place.

A familiar car pulled up in front of them as they stepped out into the parking lot and Laura's mouth slipped into a frown as the driver's side window rolled down.

Leland Palmer looked up with a smile. "Hey, honey. I thought I'd give you a ride home."

Laura leaned into Bobby just a bit. "Sorry, Dad. Bobby's giving me a ride."

"Oh," Leland said, his smile faltering a little. He hesitated a moment before adding, "It's just that we don't see much of each other these days. I thought we could talk. You know, some father-daughter time." His expression turned cajoling. "Maybe we could get some ice cream?"

"Well, we really hadn't-- oof!"

Laura removed her elbow from Bobby's ribs. "Maybe some other time, Dad."

Leland sighed and nodded sadly before rolling up his window and driving away.

"What was that all about?" Bobby asked, dropping his arm from Laura's shoulder as they walked the last few steps to Bobby's spot. The sign in front of his space read 'Best Quarterback in the State!'

"Nothing," Laura said. "I just didn't want to deal with him today."

"Uh, okay," Bobby said. He opened the door for her, today. Usually he forgot these days. "You want me to drop you at Donna's, then?"

"That'd be great," Laura said, sliding into her seat and leaning back with a sigh.

Twelve hours later, she was dead.

**Eight Days Later**

"Oh, _fiddlesticks_," Brenda huffed as one side of her bun slid down while she attempted to pin up the other side. She was interrogating a serial killer today, an elegant Bostonian woman who had coldly and methodically murdered at least four of her five husbands, including her latest: a well-known, Oscar-winning movie producer who had transplanted his new wife to LA and left her twenty million when he died.

"Did you just say 'fiddlesticks', Chief?" Sergeant Gabriel called from the living room, sounding amused. He was giving her a ride today, as her own car was in the shop. Now she wished she'd asked him to come a half hour later.

Brenda narrowed her eyes at the mirror in front of her, which reflected back a disheveled woman with an overly generous mouth and tendrils of hair flying every which way. Lucinda Scott would take one look at this unkempt face and sneer while asking for an attorney. It was Scott's sheer arrogance that had given Brenda a reprieve up to this point. Now she had to face the killer as an equal and to do that, she had to look the part.

"You doing okay in there?" Gabriel called.

"No," she snapped back in frustration. "My hair refuses to cooperate and we're already running late!" She jerked the half-made bun apart. "Damn hair," she muttered. "At this rate we're going to have to let her go."

"We'll be fine," a voice said from right behind her.

Brenda started in surprise and spun around, nearly bumping into Gabriel in the process. He gently took her shoulders and turned her back to face the mirror. "Though I think it'll save us all a lot of time if you let me help with that. Now, where's your brush?"

Wordlessly, Brenda handed it over. She could still feel the ghostly impression of his fingers touching the bare skin of her shoulders. She couldn't decide if she should regret or rejoice in her decision to wear a sleeveless dress today. Regret would have been the smarter emotion; unfortunately she'd never been very smart when it came to her personal life. Which was why Fritz was in Washington and Brenda was single. Again.

Gentle hands stroked through her hair and she pushed away thoughts of Fritz. "Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, aiming for defensive.

Gabriel snorted. "I've dated white women, you know."

Brenda bit her lip and managed not to say something she'd regret. Instead she closed her eyes and just let herself enjoy Gabriel's fingers softly scraping her scalp and the careful way he pushed the bobby pins into place.

"There, done," he said, long before she was ready for him to stop.

She blinked a couple of times. "Oh. Oh, thank you." Then she got a closer look at her hair, which was perfectly arranged into a sleek chignon. "Thank you," she repeated, with significantly more sincerity. "That's perfect."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, just a bit. "We should get a move on, Chief."

"Right, right," Brenda said, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt.

ooo

As they waited at a light, Gabriel asked a question, though not the one she'd been expecting. "I've been meaning to ask you, Chief; I notice that you don't really swear, except sometimes in interrogations. I mean, 'fiddlesticks'? 'Heck'? 'Fudgesicles'? What's up with that?"

Brenda fought down a smile. 'What was up with that' was that she'd learned at an early age that a woman who acted like a true southern lady, who didn't swear, who was relentlessly polite, and who could smile when anyone else would have frowned, was almost always underestimated. She liked being underestimated. It made it easier to cut men off at the knees. Women were a little tougher, but a few got caught in the trap. "Oh, that's my mama," she answered breezily. "She taught me that a woman never swears. Washed my mouth out with soap once." Well, tried to anyway. Brenda hadn't come home for two days after that incident and there was never a repeat attempt.

"Uh-huh," Gabriel said doubtfully, and Brenda had to look out the window to cover a small smile. He was getting better at telling when she was being liberal with the truth. Not like Fritz, who--

No. She wasn't going to think about Fritz. After all, a man who tried to blackmail his girlfriend into living together by threatening to move to the east coast if-- Oh, heck, that wasn't fair either. They'd been dating for nearly a year at that point. She'd known it was time. It was just that she didn't particularly _like_ living with anyone, which was one of the main reasons why most of her previous relationships had fallen apart once they got that far. Well, that and the fact that men turned into assholes once they were living with you.

Looking back, though, Fritz probably would have been different. She couldn't see him wanting her to cook and clean for him and she certainly couldn't see him hinting that it was time to quit her job. If nothing else, it was too expensive in LA for one government salary to support two people.

Unfortunately for them both, she'd been burned one too many times, and she just kept on dithering right up to the moment that Fritz accepted that position in Behavioral Sciences and went back to the east coast, leaving Brenda alone. Again.

In fact, about the only thing she'd done right in that whole situation was stand strong against Will's advances after Fritz left. Will had always enjoyed skirting or, more often, making an outright mockery of the rules, and he hadn't let the fact that he was Brenda's direct superior distract him from a very pointed and persistent pursuit. And he was so very sweet and funny and....

But no, it was a bad idea, a very bad idea. Why it was nearly as bad as if Brenda took up with Gabriel.

Now _that_ was a dangerous line of thought. Will was a well-connected political animal; he might survive an affair with his subordinate. Brenda, who already had allegations of sexual misconduct in her past, would be thrown to the wolves. Probably by Will.

There, that was better. It was good to remember that Will had his bad side, just like everyone else.

"You okay, Chief?" Gabriel asked as he turned into the station's parking lot.

"Yes, why?" Brenda asked as casually as she could.

Gabriel shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just get nervous when you go quiet like that." He smirked a little as he put the car in park.

Brenda narrowed her eyes at him, but it was a mock glare. After the last year, it was nice, really nice, to know that her team was comfortable enough around her to tease. Well, tease her nicely. She had more than enough of the nasty stuff when she first moved to LA. "I was just thinking about the interrogation," she lied blithely as she stepped out of the car. Still, it was good to be reminded about the upcoming task. For the next hour or so, there was no room for anyone in Brenda's mind but Lucinda 'Black Widow' Scott.

ooo

Ignoring Buzz's indignant glare, Lieutenant Provenza settled into his usual seat in front of the monitor with a large bag of popcorn in his hand. This was definitely a popcorn moment: on the screen, Daniels (wearing one of her typical too-tight shirts and looking wickedly hot as usual) sat next to the Chief (wearing that black turtleneck dress with the grey jacket that she wore whenever she wanted to look stern) and the two of them were across from the black widow (who looked fifteen years younger than her actual age; Provenza could see asking the woman out, even if she was fifty).

Provenza heard the electronics room door open and called out as his fellow officers streamed in: "It's a smackdown between the ice-cold Bitch of Boston and the red-hot Southern Witch. I've got twenty on the Chief. Any takers?"

There were several snorts in response, and someone muttered, "Sucker's bet."

"Tell you what," Lieutenant Flynn said, and Provenza turned around just in time to see him remove the ubiquitous toothpick from his mouth. "I'll bet twenty that the Chief gets her to confess in under an hour."

Now it was Provenza's turn to snort. "Under thirty minutes is more like it." He smirked and held up a twenty. Flynn rolled his eyes but nodded.

Provenza grinned... until Gabriel spoke up, "I say she can do it under twenty." He held up his own twenty, only to hastily tuck it away when the door opened and Chief Pope stepped inside.

"Has she started?" he asked.

"Uh, no," Buzz said, sounding flustered even though he hadn't had anything to do with the pool that had been forming around him. Provenza smirked. Wimp.

"What's the pool up to?" Pope said casually.

Buzz's eyes got reeeeal wide. Provenza smirked again.

"Twenty to get in; everything between twenty minutes and an hour is taken," he said smugly.

Pope eyed the screen for a moment. "I'll take over an hour, then." Everyone turned to stare at him. "What? She has problems with older women. I think they remind her of her mother." Everyone continued to stare. He rolled his eyes. "Back to work, people."

Since sitting in the electronics room watching the Chief break a perp could barely be called work, everyone re-focused on the screen in front of them and hoped that Pope wouldn't notice they were all still there.

Suddenly the door to the electronics room burst open and Lieutenant Tao came in, out of breath and flustered. "Has she started yet?"

Provenza grunted a 'no'.

"I think she was waiting for some DNA results," Gabriel said. He pointed to the folder Tao was holding. "Are those--"

Unfortunately, Tao was already out the door. Then again, that undoubtedly meant the folder was containing the anticipated DNA results and the anticipating in the room ramped up to twenty. Provenza set his popcorn in his lap and leaned back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. "Aaaand _action_!"

ooo

In the end, it took four hours, making it the second longest interrogation of Brenda's life, outside of her work at the CIA. She was nearly shaking with exhaustion when she stepped out of the interview room, and didn't have nearly enough energy to shrug off Gabriel when he tucked a discreet hand under her elbow to help steady her. "Maybe I should take you home," he said, sounding worried.

"No, no," Brenda said, even though going home sounded like the best thing she'd heard all day. Interrogating a person was kind of like diffusing a bomb, only instead of facing mortal danger for herself she risked releasing a killer into the general public if she made a mistake. No surprise then that she spent every minute of her interviews high on adrenaline.

The resulting crash, however, was always unpleasant, even if she'd only been in the room for five minutes. Now, she felt half-dead, and it was barely noon.

"I think that's a good idea," Will said. Brenda blinked. She hadn't even noticed Chief Pope was there, possibly because of the blinding headache that had started pounding away at her brain. Maybe she _should_ go home. "In fact," he added, "Why don't you all take the rest of the day off. You worked a lot of overtime on this case--" he winced as he said the word 'overtime' "--and the paperwork can wait till tomorrow."

"But--"

"That sounds great, Chief Pope," Gabriel said quickly. "Thanks."

And somehow, Brenda wasn't quite sure how, she found herself hustled down the elevator and back into Gabriel's car. "Are you sure you're all right?" Gabriel asked, sounding really worried now.

Brenda smiled a little. Poor, sweet, innocent Gabriel. He'd never had to see a real interrogation before, had never had to see her spend ten hours in the box, staring down a terrorist and sweating nearly as much as the criminal, shaking as her blood sugar crashed again and again but forced to hold up a good front, because if the terrorist ever saw past her facade to the all too human woman beneath then that was it, the game was over, and she would be sent unceremoniously back to the bench.

The CIA had known what to do for its interrogators -- there had always been candy just outside the interrogation room and bottles full of room temperature water that would be more readily absorbed into the system than ice cold water. Brenda had always gone for the candy first; she worked hard to keep her frame slender, but it meant she didn't have much in the way of reserves when her body was burning calories at an exponential rate. After seven years with the CIA, her body was well-trained to expect sweets at the end of every interrogation and she'd been fighting that habit ever since.

"I'm fine," she breathed, wishing that she'd thought to get something from the vending machine before Gabriel had pushed her into the elevator. "I just need some water. And sugar."

Gabriel, bless his heart, didn't say anything about her recent no-processed-sugar lifestyle change. Instead he reached over her leg to dig in the glove compartment. He came up with an open roll of lifesavers. "Start with this," he ordered, pushing it into her hand and closing the glove box. "I'll stop on the way for water."

"Thank you," Brenda said, removing the top candy and looking at it dubiously. It was fuzzy with dirt and lint. She discreetly tucked it into her bag and popped the next piece into her mouth. It was cherry and after nearly a month without sugar it tasted like heaven. She closed her eyes and held back a moan.

She was so lost in worshipping the sweetness on her tongue that she barely noticed that they were driving until Gabriel pulled to a stop. With a frown, she opened her eyes to see that they were in front of a drug store. "I'll be right back," Gabriel said, door already open. Brenda just smiled and waved him off while sucking on a new candy. Pineapple. Mmm.

Gabriel came back with a bottle of cold water and a king-sized bag of peanut M&M's. He also had a paper bag that held a couple of pairs of sunglasses. "It's LA," he said sheepishly. "We have sunshine 365 days a year."

"Thank you," Brenda said fondly, putting on one of the pairs of glasses and ignoring the way the tag hung down past her nose. Her headache immediately went down a couple of notches. "Thank you so much."

She cheerfully remained in her sugar zone until Gabriel pulled up in front of her house. "Thank you very much, Sergeant Gabriel," she said, opening her door. Before she could climb out of the car, however, Gabriel had hurried around to help her. "Really, this isn't necessary," she huffed as gentle hands were once again tucked under her arm.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and proceeded to continue to hold her arm all the way up the sidewalk and stairs until Brenda found herself facing her front door.

She frowned at the familiar honey brown wood. "Well then, now that you've shown me to my door, I think you can go home."

"Mm-hm," he answered absently. "Maybe you should get out your key."

Okay, enough was enough. Brenda pulled back from Gabriel's hand and crossed her arms. "Sergeant Gabriel."

He held up his hands. "Look, Chief Pope asked me to take you home and make sure you were all right. I'm just following orders, I promise."

Brenda huffed. "Why that--" Gabriel coughed. "Oh, fine. You can come in for one minute. _One_. And then you can run along and tell Wi-- Chief Pope that I'm fine."

"Yes, ma'am. And thank you."

Brenda just made a noise of exasperation and began pawing through her purse for her keys. It took her longer than it should have to find them -- her argument with Gabriel had taxed what little energy she had left and she was starting to develop tunnel vision as everything between her and her bed faded into insignificance. By the time she got the door open, she couldn't care less that Gabriel followed her into the living room. Oh, except--

"Sergeant, could you feed Kitty, please? Thank you so much."

And with that, she walked back into her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse on the floor, and collapsed into bed.

ooo

Brenda woke up to the sound of gunshots in her living room.

Bolting upright, she fumbled for the gun in her purse. She'd just managed to check her safety when the sounds filtered further through her foggy brain and she realized that the noises were coming from her television. Which definitely hadn't been on when she'd gone to bed. Frowning, she lifted her weapon into position and carefully made her way down the hallway to her living room.

Only to promptly lower her gun and scowl. "What are you still doing here?"

Gabriel glanced over from the television, though his hands continued to run through the long, fluffy fur covering Kitty's stomach. Kitty's paws were splayed wantonly and he was purring loud enough to be heard over the television. Brenda turned her scowl to the cat. Kitty never let _Brenda_ pet his stomach. "Sorry, Chief, but the way you passed out like that had me kind of worried. I thought I should stick around to make sure you were okay."

Brenda sighed and set her gun on the coffee table. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked, rubbing her hands through her hair. She still felt groggy, but now that the worst of her exhaustion was gone her stomach was making it very clear that a bag of M&M's wasn't nearly enough to constitute a reasonable lunch.

"Uh, no. I didn't really feel comfortable digging through your kitchen."

Brenda waved that off and asked, "Pizza or Chinese?"

"Pizza's fine. Thanks."

"Supreme okay?" Without waiting for an answer she went to the kitchen for the phone. And a diet Coke. She wasn't much for caffeine usually, but right now she really needed it. Even if it was...she glanced at a clock...8:30 at night.

Brenda stopped at stared at the clock. 8:30 at night? And Gabriel hadn't eaten anything yet? Bypassing the Coke for the time being, she went straight to the phone and ordered _two_ supremes. Just in case.

By the time she returned to the living room, Kitty had turned into a purring puddle of pleasure on Gabriel's lap, his entire body limp under the sergeant's attentions. Apparently Gabriel had _very_ good hands...and that wasn't a productive line of thinking, so Brenda pushed it aside and sat down in the armchair, leaving the sofa to Gabriel and the traitorous Kitty.

Brenda watched as Gabriel continued to seduce the cat, attempting to come up with a polite topic of conversation. It was proving surprisingly difficult -- Brenda knew how to deal with subordinates while celebrating the end of a case and with strangers in her living room, but subordinates in her living room, molesting her cat, were a different matter. All things considered, it wasn't proper for Gabriel to be sitting here at all, not with the way the sexual misconduct charges from Atlanta had been dredged back up by the LA newspapers just a few months ago. It didn't matter that the charges had been malicious lies on the part of her ex-husband, they were on her record and would follow her around for the rest of her life.

On the other hand, she couldn't let a hungry guest just leave. Mama would have a _fit_.

Finally, desperate for a topic, Brenda took advantage of the most obvious choice at hand: "Kitty sure does like you. You should have kept one of the kittens."

"That's a little more work than I was ready for," Gabriel answered. "A full grown cat, maybe, but a kitten? Especially with our hours?"

"Yeah," Brenda sighed. "It would make housebreaking it difficult." She stared at Kitty for a few seconds longer. "You know, I never really liked pets. If this one hadn't come with the house, I doubt I'd have a cat."

"You didn't have to keep her," Gabriel said dryly.

"Well, I was going to bring him to the shelter, but I never had time when they were open, and then he got pregnant--"

"You know, when a cat gets pregnant, folks usually refer to it as a she."

"Yes, but we thought he was a he for so long--" Her rant was cut off by the doorbell, saving her from thinking too hard about the fact that she'd said 'we'. As in 'me and Fritz'.

A frantic search through her purse turned up a little over half of the cost of the pizza and Gabriel chipped in the rest, ignoring Brenda's automatic, "You don't need to do that, you're the guest."

"Uninvited guest," he'd answered, taking the pizza while Brenda paid the man. "We pay our own way."

Brenda frowned at him, but what was done was done, so she gave it up to head to the kitchen for plates and drinks. Along the way she nearly tripped over Kitty, who was clearly sulking over having been displaced.

"This is good," Gabriel said around his first mouthful of pizza, even as he discreetly picked off a few of the more obvious olives from the remainder of his slice.

"Pizza's always good the first night," Brenda said, eating her own slice with relish. "Course it never reheats well."

"I usually just eat it cold," Gabriel answered with a shrug, already nearly finished with his first slice and reaching for his second. He'd clearly been very hungry.

"I wouldn't have guessed that," Brenda said, eyeing Gabriel's pristine (as always) clothing and expensive haircut. "I would have guessed that you'd be the type to heat it up in the oven, so it's as close to the original as you can get."

"I was that way before I started the academy," Gabriel admitted. "Don't have the time for it anymore."

Brenda just smiled in reply and took a second slice of her own. She was about halfway finished with it when Gabriel sat back, clearly done eating despite the fact that there were only two crusts left on his plate. "Are you done?" she asked, surprised. "There's plenty more."

"Oh no, I'm full," Gabriel answered.

Brenda eyed the crusts, nibbled at until there wasn't a hint of tomato or cheese remaining. Hm. Casually, she said, "I've noticed recently that when Lieutenant Tao passes around that bakery box -- you know, the one I'm not supposed to know about -- you haven't been partaking. Is that a show of solidarity? Or are you on a diet?" She couldn't help it; by the second question, her voice had shifted into interrogation mode: stern and confident, like she already knew the answer to her own questions.

Gabriel stared back at her. "I don't believe this."

"What?"

"You're interrogating me!"

"Wha- I am _not_."

"Yes, you _are_. Chief!"

"No, I'm-- well, okay, maybe I am, just a little." Gabriel crossed his arms and continued to stare. Brenda winced, just a little. "I'm sorry. But, it's a valid question!"

"Fine! So just ask me the question! You don't have to interrogate me."

"Well, fine!" Brenda took a deep breath and said evenly, "Most male police officers do their best to bulk up; I've never met one who dieted to stay so thin."

"It's not really a diet," Gabriel started. Now it was Brenda's turn to stare. "It's not, it's-- Look, you know that I'm planning to run for office someday, right?" Brenda nodded. "And we both know that I can't do any good unless I actually get elected." Brenda frowned at that, but nodded again. "Right so, well, look at me. I'm black and I have a background with the LAPD, both of which can work for and against me, but mostly against me. I'm neither wealthy nor well known and I have no big-name connections, both strikes against my getting elected. Frankly, the only thing I have going for me is the image I present. Fortunately, in LA image counts for a lot more than it does in most other places. So I run a lot. I eat right. I save my money for expensive suits and I keep my weight down so that can wear the same clothes year after year. All of which means that five or ten years from now, when I'm ready to run, I'll have a closet full of Armani, I'll have a pearly white smile, and I'll look damn good for the cameras." By the end of his speech, Gabriel's voice had gotten significantly louder and his arms were crossed defensively.

Brenda couldn't help it -- her lips were twitching. "Well if it helps, I think you look darn good now."

Gabriel's tense posture relaxed a fraction. "And would you vote for me?"

"In a heartbeat."

He smiled at that and lowered his arms. "That's just because you know me," he said, but he was still smiling.

Brenda shrugged. "If you can't get the people who know you to vote for you, you probably shouldn't be running for office. Besides, you have a lot more going for you than your looks." Oh, dear. She probably shouldn't have said that.

"Yeah? Like what?"

Well, she'd set herself up for this. "Well, you're charming, for one. Good with people. I understand that makes things a lot easier."

"It does," Gabriel said. "You should try it sometime."

"Wha-- I'll have you know that I've been told that I am _very_ charming."

"You can be," Gabriel admitted. "The key is to do it for more than ten seconds at a time."

Brenda narrowed her eyes. "When investigating a murder, there's no time to waste making sure everyone's happy."

"Fair enough," Gabriel said, backing off so far that even his body settled further back on the sofa. Or maybe, considering how frequently his eyes landed on the pizza box, he was putting some distance between himself and temptation.

Brenda watched him for a moment. "You know," she commented, as she reached into the box for a third slice, "one thing a woman learns early in life is that sometimes you just need to splurge a little." With a dare in her eye, she pushed the box closer to her sergeant.

He held out for less than a second before leaning forward. "You're a bad influence, Chief, you know that, right?"

"So I've been told, many times," she said with a smile.

Conversation was easier after that; they ended up sharing their favorite splurge foods, talking about how boring chicken was unless it was fried, and commiserating over endless salads for lunch. From there they moved on to how their respective appearances impacted their work, and Brenda was intrigued at how well Gabriel had used his looks to his advantage. It wasn't a skill she'd associated with men before, but it made sense that it was a useful talent for anyone living in LA.

"Can I ask you something, Chief?" It was getting late, nearly midnight, and the pizza box had been entirely stripped of its contents. Brenda was feeling loose and lethargic and content in a way she hadn't felt since she'd left Atlanta.

"Of course," she said, letting her head loll against the back of her armchair. "Anything."

Gabriel looked equally comfortable, spread out on the couch, his shoes off and his tie loosened. She'd never seen him so relaxed before; it was a good look for him. "Well, I was just wondering -- why did you have Daniels in the interview with you today? Usually it's me, or Flynn or Provenza if I'm not around, or Sanchez if there's a gang member involved."

Brenda shrugged. "Daniels is an intelligent, stylish, attractive woman, everything that Lucinda Scott respects. Having her in the room made Scott take me more seriously."

"Hey, I'm intelligent, stylish, and attractive," Gabriel protested, though his mouth was quirked in a self-deprecating grin that glossed over his lack of modesty.

Brenda wished she could grin like that; it would make her life a lot easier. "Yes, but you're a man. Lucinda Scott has been manipulating men for so long that I think she views the entire sex as lower in intelligence."

"Huh."

"Plus, she probably would have thought you were gay."

Gabriel sat up at that. "What?"

"You're well-dressed, articulate, and stylish and Boston's a pretty traditional city. With Lucinda's conservative background, it's a safe bet that she'd be jumping to conclusions."

"Right," Gabriel said, sounding a little unsettled. Brenda would bet a month's paycheck that he'd never been out east before. Probably he hadn't even been outside the state of California. "But you know I'm not gay, right?"

Brenda smiled up at the ceiling, warmed by the question. She didn't think it was her imagination that he was emphasizing this point for a reason. "I know," she answered softly.

They shared a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Gabriel asked, "So you've been to Boston?"

"I worked in DC and Virginia for a nearly a decade. Boston isn't too far from there."

"Did you go often?"

"Two or three times a year. My husband's family lived there." Oh, hell. She definitely hadn't meant to say that. The late hour, full stomach, and good company were playing havoc on her internal censor. "Ex-husband," she clarified quickly.

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know you were married, Chief."

"It wasn't one of my better choices," Brenda said wryly. She thought about explaining that Kyle, her ex, had been the one to start that whole sexual misconduct rumor in Atlanta, making an uglier mess of an already ugly divorce. In the end, she decided that she'd already revealed more than enough of her personal business for one night.

Gabriel, demonstrating some of those people skills that made him so popular at the station, casually changed the subject. "I've never been to Boston myself. Never even been outside of California, except for a trip to Las Vegas when I graduated from high school."

Brenda smirked to herself.

"I always wanted to travel," he added, "But there just didn't seem to be time. From high school I went to college, from college to the academy, from the academy into the force, and graduate school while on the force. And I worked my way through most of my schooling, so that took up all of my vacations."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Brenda said, her voice soft with exhaustion.

"It was," Gabriel answered, sounding equally tired. "But it was worth it."

They sat there silently for a few more minutes before Gabriel sighed and said in a reluctant voice, "It's getting late; I should probably go."

Brenda's first instinct was to protest that it really wasn't that late, but a glance at the clock showed that it was well after one and the whole squad had a long day of paperwork to look forward to tomor-- today. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked instead. "You're welcome to the couch if you want." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. If it had been Provenza or Daniels it wouldn't have been a problem, but Gabriel was a whole other issue. Frankly, Brenda couldn't imagine getting a wink of sleep if she knew Gabriel was sleeping just a few feet away.

Fortunately, Gabriel shook his head. "I'll be fine. Besides, I'd rather not sleep in this suit," he added wryly, glancing down at his already hopelessly wrinkled pants.

Brenda's own dress was nearly as bad. "Well, that's what dry cleaners are for," she offered.

Gabriel just made an amused noise and looked around for his jacket. Once he had it in one hand, Brenda thrust the second pizza box in his direction. "Here. You paid for it, you should get to keep it."

"No, I--"

"I don't really like leftover pizza, anyway." It was sort of true. She certainly didn't like it as much as when it was fresh.

"Oh, well then... if you're sure." Brenda pushed the box forward a bit and Gabriel finally took it. "Thanks."

"No, thank you," Brenda said with a smile. They stood awkwardly for a second, before Brenda realized that the next step was hers. Leading Gabriel to the door, she added, "Thank you very much for making sure I got home okay and keeping an eye on me."

"Hey, thank you for not kicking me out," he said wryly as she opened the door.

There was another awkward pause, where they would have kissed if this had been a date. "Well, goodnight then," Gabriel said, stepping onto the porch.

"Night," Brenda answered, leaning on the doorframe just a bit.

He offered her one last small wave and turned to walk away. Brenda watched him go, though she knew she shouldn't. It turned out for the best, however, as Gabriel paused at his car and turned back. "Should I pick you up tomorrow at the usual time?"

"Yes, thank you," she called back, giving him a little wave of her own.

Gabriel waved back, again, then climbed into his car.

And if Brenda stayed in the door to watch him drive away, it was no one's business but her own.

ooo

The next morning Brenda woke up with a delightful feeling of anticipation. Last night had easily been the best she'd had since Fritz left and she couldn't wait to see Gabriel again, even if they talked about nothing but work. It was just nice to know that she had a friend in LA, something that she hadn't even realized that she was missing until Fritz had gone back east.

Brenda rolled out of bed with a sigh and headed for the shower. It was mostly her own fault, she knew. She'd started dating Fritz just a few days after her initial arrival in LA and between that and trying to survive Taylor's endless sabotage attempts during her first year on the job, Brenda hadn't had time to go out and meet anyone. By the time her schedule had been a little less crazy, she'd gotten used to spending all of her free time with Fritz. At the time it had been nice. Once Fritz was gone, however, it had been very lonely.

Which just made last night with Gabriel that much more valuable. Unfortunately, there would always be a barrier between them, at least as long as Brenda was Gabriel's supervisor. Brenda regretted that, even as she knew how important it was to keep a certain distance from her subordinates. That distance meant that last night had been a mistake, no matter how wonderful it had been.

Well, she couldn't undo last night, even if she wanted to. What she could do was keep it from happening again. It was time for Brenda Leigh Johnson to start exploring this city she'd been living in, time to start going out and meeting new people. There were hundreds of restaurants, clubs, and theaters in this town. She was sure to find something to enjoy.

Brenda sighed again and turned off her shower. Honestly, the whole mess sounded like a whole lot of work. And, more importantly, her anticipation for Gabriel's arrival hadn't diminished in the least.

It was going to be a long day.

ooo

The ride to the station went surprisingly well. Gabriel's smile as he opened the car door for Brenda might have been just a little broader than usual, but they spent the entire drive discussing the case, namely Lucinda Scott's chances for getting the death penalty. Brenda hadn't offered Lucinda any kind of deal when getting the confession, so the death penalty seemed likely. Though, as Brenda pointed out, any smart defense lawyer would give Lucinda a reverse make-over, turning a poised serial killer into a sweet-looking granny. Most juries weren't going to recommend that grandma get the needle.

They were still arguing the point when they walked in to the already crowded murder room. Brenda was pleased to see that everyone had already started on their usual paperwork assignments; Priority Homicide's paperwork had been a bit sloppy before she had been brought on board, and she'd spent much of that miserable first year impressing on her people how important it was to dot every i and cross every t. After all, when a defense lawyer went over their cases, the paperwork was the only evidence the squad had that everything they did was legal and aboveboard. Considering the squad's reputation before Brenda was brought in, they needed to be even more meticulous than was required under the law.

Gabriel went off to fill out his own stack of forms, while Brenda retreated to her office to start her report on her interrogation, and to brood. She'd made good progress on both when Will called, asking her to come to his office. Brenda frowned at the phone. This had better not be another barely-cloaked dinner invitation; there was a difference between persistence and harassment and Will was starting to get too close to the wrong side of that line.

Funny how she hadn't thought of that until last night.

Just outside of Will's office, Brenda took a moment to straighten her jacket and put on her best smile. The latter didn't do a bit of good, as it dropped off her face the moment she opened the door. "Fritz?"

Fritz stood up next to Will in front of the desk. "Hello, Brenda."

Her smile came back in force. "Fritz, what are you doing here?"

He smiled back. "To see you, actually."

Brenda felt her heart pumping wildly in her chest. He came back!

"It seems the FBI wants to ask us a favor," Will cut in.

Brenda's smile faltered. "Oh. Um, what kind of favor?"

Fritz smiled again, but now that Brenda was thinking with her brain, rather than her heart, she could see the smile was brittle and forced. "We need you to interrogate someone."

"Interrogate someone," Brenda repeated slowly. "You need _me_ to interrogate someone." She crossed her arms. "What about the FBI's interrogators?"

Fritz looked a little uncomfortable at that. "This is going to be a tough one, Brenda. The evidence is...not tainted, but there will be questions about it. We need someone to handle the interview with the prime suspect, someone who can get a confession, an iron-clad one. Plus, previous interviews by our on-site agent...haven't gone well."

Brenda just stared at him. He sighed. "Fine, we need the best. We need a closer."

She considered that for a second, but decided that he'd groveled enough so she turned to Will. "Chief Pope? What do you think?"

He smiled at her. "The FBI has made us a very generous offer to compensate us for your time." She raised her eyebrows and he quickly added, "But, of course, the final decision is yours."

"I'll need more information before I can make a decision." She turned to Fritz and smiled sweetly. "Agent Howard?"

He sighed and held out a folder. She took it as he said, "The victim was a high school girl named Laura Palmer. She was raped and murdered a little over a week ago in Twin Peaks, Washington."

Brenda frowned as she flipped through the folder. "Why was the FBI called in?"

"We were first called in because another girl was abducted with Laura. She escaped and crossed state lines before she was recovered. However, there is also evidence that Laura was killed by someone who murdered another woman a year ago. It may be just a coincidence -- Laura was apparently involved in some nasty stuff -- but we want to be sure."

Brenda absorbed that for a minute, taking the opportunity to scan the lead agent's notes. On day three, there was a notation that read, "Dr. Lawrence Jacoby - struck but not broken, Leo Johnson - bottle shattered". Next to that cryptic note was written in all capital letters 'TIBET'. Brenda blinked. "Tibet? What does that mean?"

Fritz nodded. "That's why I'm here, actually."

"Because of Tibet?"

"More of because what Tibet represents." He hesitated so long that Brenda guessed, "Buddhism?"

"No," he sighed. "Okay, this is going to sound a little strange, but just hear me out." Brenda raised her eyebrows, but nodded. "Dale Cooper is the SAC for this case. He believes that--" here Fritz took a deep breath, and Brenda and Will exchanged a glance. When Fritz spoke again, he did so in a rush, as if trying to get everything out as quickly as possible, "--believes that he has a special ability to determine key aspects of a case by the accuracy of his throwing arm."

Brenda's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

Fritz sighed again. "You heard me."

"And what does Tibet have to do with this?" Will asked.

"His awareness of his special ability came during a dream he had of Tibet."

Brenda and Will exchanged another glance, this one deeply tinged in disbelief. "And this Agent Cooper still works for the FBI?" Will asked, for the both of them.

Fritz shrugged. "There's not much we can do -- he closes his cases with solid evidence. He just uses the Tibet technique to narrow his search. And, well, he's always right." Upon another disbelieving stare he shrugged again.

"Well, if he's always right, why is the FBI asking me to come in on this case?" Brenda asked, tossing the file aside and planting her hands on her hips.

Fritz eyed those hands before sitting down at the conference table. Brenda hesitated a moment, but joined him and Will did the same. "Look," Fritz said, leaning forward and speaking low. "The bureau recognizes that Agent Cooper is a problem. It's one of the reasons why he keeps getting sent out to remote locales like Twin Peaks. It's one of the reasons why he has his own secretary to filter everything he sends in into something acceptable. But the fact is, the man has one of the highest closure rates in the FBI, and his cases nearly always result in a conviction."

"He sounds as perfect as peach pie," Brenda said. "Which still doesn't explain why the FBI needs me."

"I'm getting to that." Fritz started to lean in even further, but caught himself and sat back upright with a slight frown before he continued. "The primary reason why Agent Cooper's unusual methods haven't been a problem before now is that he's done them in secret. Since no one saw him go out into the woods and throw stones, no one could testify as to his methods."

"So I'm guessing someone in Twin Peaks saw your good agent in action."

"The entire Twin Peaks police department," Fritz admitted. "Including the receptionist."

"Oh, good Lord."

"He's also been impeding an investigation into an assault by the sheriff against a federal agent. And he's been talking about cashing in his retirement fund to buy land in Twin Peaks."

"Well, it sounds like his objectivity has gone right out the window," Brenda observed, opening the file again.

"Exactly," Fritz said. "And then there's what happened yesterday."

What happened yesterday? Brenda flipped to the back of the file and her eyes opened wide as she read. "Oh my God."

"Yeah," Fritz said, sounding weary. "So will you come?"

Brenda sighed. "I don't know. I'm going to have to re-interview everyone connected with the victim. Well, everyone still alive and not in a coma, that is." She flipped through a few sheets. "Which doesn't look like a long list, but it'll probably get longer once we figure out who killed, assaulted, and/or shot at all of the suspects." She looked at Will. "I'm going to need Sergeant Gabriel and Lieutenants Flynn and Provenza."

"Forget it," Will said immediately. "You can have Gabriel, but no one else." Brenda raised her eyebrows. "_No_," he said emphatically. "Priority Homicide isn't your personal recruitment center."

"You said I could allocate my resources any way I see fit," Brenda shot back.

"And you can, as long as you're allocating them within the city of Los Angeles." He turned to Fritz. "When are you leaving?"

Fritz glanced at Brenda, who was glowering, before answering, "There's a flight to Spokane that leaves in three hours."

"Fine. Brenda, go fill your team in on what's going on and then you and Gabriel should go home to pack. In the meantime, Agent Howard, you and I have a few details to work out."

As Brenda stalked out the door, she distinctly heard Will say, "Now, about the compensation for Sergeant Gabriel's assistance on this case..."

ooo

Priority Homicide took the news as well as might be expected.

"Aw, crap. You mean we gotta work for Taylor? Again?" Provenza griped.

"Am I going to have to go back to SID?" Tao asked, considerably more politely, but with a similar level of enthusiasm.

"Homeland Security's been pushing for another training," Daniels sighed.

"Okay, first of all, no one is going anywhere," Brenda said loudly. "After all, you still have the paperwork for the Lucinda Scott case to finish up."

Glances were exchanged among her team. Suddenly there was a great rustle of paper as folders and neatly typed reports were unceremoniously shoved to the backs of desk drawers and underneath desktop calendars.

"Paperwork's a pain, Chief, but that's only going to keep Taylor off our backs for so long," Flynn said, dumping his own report into the trash.

"Well, you're just going to have to stretch it out somehow," Brenda said. She glanced behind her quickly before moving deeper into the murder room. "There is a possibility I might need ya'll on this case. Entirely off the record, of course, so if anyone would like to finish their paperwork early and report to Commander Taylor, I wouldn't hold it against you."

More glances, followed by a few smirks. Flynn grinned around his toothpick, but it was Provenza who answered for the group: "Off the record? Sounds like fun."

Brenda smiled back. God, she loved her team.

ooo

Getting tickets this close to take-off was a risky proposition, so Brenda wasn't surprised that they didn't manage to get three seats in the same row. She _was_ surprised when Fritz took the single seat in the front of the plane, letting Brenda and Gabriel have the pair of seats next to one of the rear windows.

"Discretion is the better part of valor?" Gabriel suggested as Fritz boarded the plane.

Brenda just hmm'd in response and changed the subject. "So this is your first time out of state."

"Yep. Except for that trip to Las Vegas, but that doesn't really count."

"Did you fly to Vegas?"

"Naw. Some buddies of mine decided they wanted to go on a road trip before they went off to college. I just came along for the ride."

"So that means this is your first time on an airplane."

"Uh, yeah." He looked sheepish as he added, "I'm trying not to think about that at the moment."

Brenda promptly started digging around in her voluminous purse. She'd had Gabriel stop at a drug store on his way to drop her off and she knew she'd remembered to put the bag... ah, here it was. "Here, try one of these," she said, offering him the Dramamine.

He looked at it dubiously. "I don't really take many drugs, even OTC ones."

"Trust me," Brenda said. "You won't regret it."

Gabriel still didn't look convinced, but he swallowed the pill down with a few gulps of his diet soda. Brenda winced and considered telling him that he should slow down unless he wanted to experience an airplane bathroom first hand, but decided that she'd done enough mothering for one day. Instead, she pulled out the case file. "Ready to go over the details?"

"Sounds good," Gabriel said, sounding relieved.

Brenda smiled and started to read the file to him. It would've been helpful to have a second copy, but Brenda had needed the copy Fritz had provided for something else and she hadn't had time to make a third.

By the time they had boarded the plane, found their seats, and stowed their luggage (Brenda kept the file in hand), Gabriel had been reduced to repeating regularly, "Say that again" and "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

He was frowning as she closed the file. "Okay, Chief, maybe I'm missing something, but it sounds to me like they got the killer."

"Maybe," Brenda said, tucking the file into the seat pouch in front of Gabriel. Leaning back in her seat, she sighed as she added, "But I'd feel a lot better if Leo Johnson's guilt was supported by more than the testimony of a man who was drunk, unconscious, and most importantly, twenty miles away from the crime scene when the murder occurred. And I'd really like to know why Mr. Johnson was shot before he could speak to the FBI. Finally, if Mr. Johnson was the killer and was shot early in the evening, who made the attempt on Agent Cooper's life several hours later, and why?"

"That's a good point." Gabriel might have added something more, but he was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. "Oh, man, sorry about that. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"That's the Dramamine," Brenda offered sweetly, unbuckling her seatbelt so she could raid the luggage bin for a pillow. She handed over the cheap, felt-covered wad of cotton with a smile. "Knocks you right out. Makes the flight go by a lot faster, I promise."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her, but he couldn't quite cover another yawn so, with a glare, he stuffed the pillow between his head and the side of the plane and closed his eyes. By the time they were taxing for takeoff, he was asleep.

As soon as they leveled off, Brenda dug through her purse for a notepad and pen. Thanks to her CIA-trained memory and the presence of her sergeant, she normally didn't have to bother with notes. Unfortunately, there was going to be a lot of scrutiny on this case and it would be best for everyone if she created a paper trail for her thought processes. And the surest way to ensure a solid conviction? Assume the jury would have the collective IQ of a turnip.

With that in mind, on the top of the page, she wrote _Interviews to Schedule_.

Underneath, she wrote _Name (relationship to victim) -- Notes_.

She debated a moment over who to list first, but really there was only one reasonable option. She'd just have to hope that he was conscious. _Special Agent Dale Cooper (FBI agent investigating victim's murder) -- currently in hospital recovering from gunshot wound; discover if there is anything missing from the official file_.

Next she would have listed the prime suspect, but he was currently in a coma. Then again...turnips. _Leo Johnson (had sex with victim the night she died) -- Prime suspect in Laura Palmer's murder, shot in his home last night, in coma _.

Which led to _Shelley Johnson (Leo Johnson's wife) -- Maybe LJ told her something before he was killed?_.

Moving from suspects to witnesses to family and friends, Brenda came up with a rather longer list of interviews than she'd expected:

**Name (relationship to victim) -- Notes  
**_-Special Agent Dale Cooper (FBI agent investigating victim's murder) -- currently in hospital recovering from gunshot wound; discover if there is anything missing from the official file _

_- Leo Johnson (had sex with victim the night she died) -- Prime suspect in Laura Palmer's murder, shot in his home last night, in coma_

_-Jacques Renault (also had sex with the victim the night she died) -- Primary witness against Johnson; worked as a dealer at One Eyed Jacks; killed last night_

_- Shelley Johnson (Leo Johnson's wife) -- Maybe LJ told her something before he was shot? Also, only 17, so possibly knew and/or was friends with Laura._

_-Bobby Briggs (Laura's official boyfriend, in same high school class) -- possibly connected to Leo Johnson_

_-James Hurley (Laura's secret boyfriend, in same high school class) -- was with Laura the night she died. Currently in jail for suspicion of drug dealing_

_-Donna Hayward (Laura's best friend, in same high school class)_

_-Dr. Lawrence Jacoby (psychiatrist Laura was secretly seeing)_

_-Leland and Sarah Palmer (Laura's parents) -- had no idea what kind of trouble Laura might have been in?_

_-Ronette Pulaski (abducted with Laura) -- still traumatized and not speaking; was a couple of years older than Laura -- possibly was the one to get Laura involved in drugs and prostitution?_

Brenda frowned at the list. It was a long list, and likely to get longer once she actually started talking to people. Damn. She should've packed a second suitcase.

She was still contemplating her upcoming interviews when Fritz suddenly dropped into the empty seat next to her. She raised her eyebrows at him. "I was stuck between a woman hunting for her fifth husband and a guy wanting advice for his bible study lesson for next week," he said sheepishly. "And I figured, since this seat was open, we might as well discuss the case." He leaned forward to look around Brenda. "Sergeant Gabriel?"

Brenda sighed. "I gave him a Dramamine. He should be waking up soon." She passed over the interview list.

Fritz skimmed over the list and whistled. "This is going to take some time." He passed the list back. "The Pope's not going to be happy."

"I know." Brenda leaned back in her seat. "This case is sloppy, Fritz, really sloppy. The entire case hangs on the confession of a man who wasn't even at the murder scene. Laura Palmer had sex with three men the night she was killed, but no one's bothered to compare the suspects' DNA to the samples recovered from her body and no one has any idea who the third man might be. And now the principle witness is dead, the man I'm supposed to interrogate is in a coma, the special agent in charge of the case has been shot, several potential witnesses have been assaulted, and there's still no hard evidence as to who actually killed Laura Palmer."

Fritz gave a sigh of his own. "I know."

Brenda turned her head to look at him. "So why am I here, Fritz? This isn't just an interrogation, this is a full investigation. Why didn't the FBI send in its own team of investigators?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"Because it's a clusterfuck and no one in the Bureau wants to touch it," Fritz said wearily. "Because there're gangs out there killing a dozen people a week and that takes priority. Because the national media doesn't care about one dead girl from Twin Peaks, so there's no outside pressure. Because if you can't solve this case then it's not the Bureau's fault when it goes cold."

Brenda took that all in. "And if I do solve the case?"

Fritz shrugged. "You've been making some big arrests in LA, Brenda. You've caught the attention of some of the higher ups." He glanced over at her. "Ever consider working for the FBI?"

"Is that what this is?" Brenda snapped. "Another recruitment attempt?"

"_Another_ recr-- are you saying the FBI already offered you a job?"

Whoops. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. Too late to take it back, unfortunately. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, fine, they offered me a position a few months ago."

"Not in LA," Fritz said. "Those guys hate you."

Even more now that Fritz had gone back east, taking away Brenda's only ally in the LA field office. She didn't say that out loud, of course. "We didn't get that far in the discussion."

Fritz opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before narrowing his eyes. "Are you and Will dating again?"

Brenda's eyes got huge and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Gabriel was still sleeping before turning back and hissing, "Fritz!"

Fritz hissed right back. "Are. You. Dating. Will. Again?"

"He is my boss," Brenda grit out. "And married."

"He doesn't seem to care that he's your boss. And he's getting a divorce."

"_What?_" Brenda yelped. She winced and glanced again at Gabriel. "What do you mean he's getting a divorce?" she hissed at Fritz.

"I can't believe you don't know this," Fritz shot back. "I knew it and I live in Washington."

Brenda fell back in her seat. "Are you sure?"

"_Yes._ He didn't tell you, clearly."

"No." Brenda sighed. "He's been asking me out. I haven't said yes."

Fritz's whole body relaxed. "When you didn't want to move in with me, I thought it might be because you were still interested in Will," he admitted.

Brenda opened her mouth to answer, but stopped as she heard noise behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Gabriel blinking back blearily.

Swallowing an oath, Brenda turned back to Fritz and mouthed: 'we'll talk about this later.' He nodded as she turned back to her sergeant. "Welcome back, Sergeant. Have a good sleep?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. He was apparently awake enough to toss in a glare.

She smiled back sweetly. "I'm happy to hear it. We have a lot of interviews to schedule."

Gabriel groaned, but took the file she handed him. The rest of the flight was spent going over the case and Brenda was relieved to note that, without the rest of priority homicide to egg the two men on, Gabriel and Fritz worked together quite well. Maybe this case wouldn't be so bad.

It was a two hour drive from Spokane to Twin Peaks. They stopped halfway to eat dinner at a small inn that had a big sign out front that read 'Best Cherry Pie in Fifty States!" So, of course, Brenda had to try a piece.

"Oh my goodness," she moaned as she ate her first bite. The waitress grinned. "This is the best pie I've ever eaten."

"People come from all around to try it," the waitress said, still grinning as she left for the next table.

Brenda opened her eyes to scoop up another bite, only to find Fritz and Gabriel staring at her pie longingly. If she'd been with either man alone, she would have been happy -- well, willing -- to share, but since there were two of them, she just pulled her plate a little closer and closed her eyes as she took another bite.

She opened them to find Fritz ordering a slice of the pie. Gabriel shook his head at the waitress's offer to bring him one and said, "I couldn't eat a whole slice" as he took another pull on his unsweetened coffee.

That, of course, was code for "I _shouldn't_ eat a whole slice", and Brenda wrinkled her nose at him. He lifted his shoulders in response and shot a longing glance at her dessert. Brenda glanced at Fritz, who was completely focused on his own pie, sighed, and pushed over the remains of her dessert to Gabriel. "Here," she said reluctantly. "You should at least try it."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel answered, already reaching for the plate.

"I couldn't eat another bite," Brenda lied sadly.

Then she had a thought and perked right back up as the waitress came to the table with the check. "Excuse me," she said. "Could I have a piece of pie to go?"

Fritz and Gabriel both looked at her, their mouths full. "What?" she said innocently. "I might want a midnight snack."

"That's a good idea," Fritz said, swallowing quickly. "I'll take a slice to go, too."

"Me, too," added Gabriel, scraping his plate to chase the last of the pie crumbs.

Brenda glanced down to hide a smile.

ooo

The drive through northeast Washington was ridiculously picturesque, with tall mountains carpeted by majestic evergreens. Fritz drove, with Brenda sitting shotgun and reading the file. A quick glance in the back seat revealed Gabriel staring out his window in poorly-concealed awe. Brenda smothered a grin and went back to reading.

They went to the hospital first, where they found Sheriff Harry S. Truman ("Really?" Gabriel asked. Brenda shot him a look. "Uh, never mind.") and Doctor Hayward (Donna Hayward's father) watching as Agent Cooper slowly, painfully attempted to pull on a shirt. "What do you think you're doing?" Fritz asked as Brenda and Gabriel stood back and stared in disbelief. Cooper had a huge bandage covering half of his abdomen, right over his gut.

"When the will is invoked, the recuperative powers of the physical body are extraordinary," the doctor said dryly.

"I bet he has you reading up on Tibet, too," Fritz said sarcastically. To Agent Cooper, he snapped, "Get back in bed."

"I can't," he said. "I have a murder to solve."

"That's what we're here for," Fritz said. The sheriff, the doctor, and Cooper all stared at Fritz. Brenda could just imagine how hard Fritz was trying not to roll his eyes. In an overly calm voice, he said, "The FBI doesn't expect its agents to work less than a day after getting shot in the stomach."

"Well, actually it was a little to the right--"

Fritz interrupted the doctor. "This is Brenda Leigh Johnson and David Gabriel. They will be assisting me on this case."

Brenda put on her most winning smile. "Very nice to meet ya'll."

Like a charm, her Southern drawl broke the tension in the room. The doctor smiled first, coming forward to take her hand in both of his. "Very nice to meet you, Ms. Johnson."

By the time the introductions were over, everyone was smiling but Agent Cooper, and even he had agreed to go back to bed. "Did you come up Highway 2?" he asked as the doctor got him settled.

"We sure did," Brenda said with a smile. "Stopped at this quaint little inn for lunch."

"The Lamplighter Inn," Cooper said, smiling at last. "Best cherry pie I've ever eaten."

"Wasn't it though?" Brenda leaned in. "I got an extra slice for tonight."

"I don't blame you -- there's nothing as good as a great slice of cherry pie."

"Isn't that the truth," Brenda drawled. She perched on the edge of his bed and ramped up her accent to eleven. "Would you mind if I asked you a question or two?"

"Not at all," Agent Cooper said. "It's always best to jump right in there."

"Why, thank you," Brenda said. "First, are you aware of everything that happened last night?"

"Aside from me getting shot?"

"Yes," Brenda said, "aside from you getting shot."

"I'm afraid not. Though I did have a vision."

"Really?" Sheriff Truman said eagerly. He came closer to the bed. "Do you think it's about the case?"

"I'm not sure, but as it looks like I might be stuck here for a while--" Cooper turned to flash another smile at Brenda, who smiled just a bit bigger and tilted her head in acknowledgement "--I might need you to check on a few things for me. Can you do that?" As he spoke, he lifted his right index finger next to his right eyebrow and carefully brushed it down his temple to his cheekbone.

"Sure thing, Agent Cooper," Truman said, making the same gesture.

Brenda stifled a sigh. Great. The man had been here for less than a week and he already knew the local secret handshake. Add that to the fact that the only woman in the sheriff's office was the receptionist and the only women in the hospital were nurses, and you had came up with one town-sized boys' club. They might as well paint 'no girls allowed' on the Twin Peaks welcome sign.

Unfortunately, there was no way for her to effectively investigate this murder without being the one to ask the questions, so it was time to fall back on a woman's greatest advantage in the face of unrelenting misogyny: underestimation.

Pulling off her glasses and lifting a hand to muss up her hair a bit, Brenda let her smile slip into a confused moue as she poked through her purse. "Oh my," she said. "I can't seem to find the file and so _much_ happened last night..."

"That's all right," Truman said, his eyes sliding right over her as he smirked slightly in Fritz's direction. Brenda hoped like hell that Fritz was smirking back. "Lucy?"

The sheriff's receptionist, a pretty woman with bad hair, came up and read quickly from a sheet of paper in her hand: "Leo Johnson was shot. Jacques Renault was strangled. The mill burned. Shelly and Pete got smoke inhalation. Catherine and Josie are missing. Nadine is in a coma from taking sleeping pills."

"Good lord," Brenda said, hand to her chest. "And I thought Atlanta was dangerous!"

"I promise you, ma'am, this isn't a normal night in Twin Peaks," Truman said soothingly.

"I certainly hope not. My, my." Brenda considered fanning herself, but decided that would be on the other side of the fine line between playing for an audience and hamming it up. Instead she pulled out the case file. "Though I am just a bit confused. Could you help me? Who are Nadine and Josie and Catherine and Pete?"

"Nadine's Big Ed's husband," Lucy offered.

Of course she was. What would a small town be without a Big Ed?

"Ed Hurley," Truman added. "He's James Hurley's uncle."

That was a different story, since James Hurley was Laura's secret boyfriend. Another name for the interview list. "And the others?" Brenda asked, flipping through the pages of the file as if desperately looking for names.

"Josie Packard owns the Packard Saw Mill since her husband Andy passed away last year," Truman answered, his voice considerably softer than it was before. Interesting. His voice hardened again when he added, "Catherine is Andy's sister. She was running the mill until recently."

"And Pete?"

"Catherine's husband."

Brenda closed the folder and let herself look lost. "Do they have any connection with Laura Palmer, Leo Johnson, or Jacques Renault?"

"We have evidence that Leo Johnson might have been the one to burn down part of the saw mill."

Oh, heck. Wasn't there anyone in this town not involved with this case? "I'll have to speak with them, of course," Brenda said in her best flustered voice. "But maybe we could find a hotel first? It's been a long day and it's barely the afternoon!"

"She doesn't fly well," Fritz said behind her. "All that Dramamine." Brenda looked over her shoulder to glare at him. He smiled back innocently.

"There's always the Great Northern," Truman said.

"That's where I'm staying," Cooper said brightly. "They have fantastic coffee."

"Sounds perfect," Brenda said, equally brightly.

She hurried through the goodbyes. Her face hurt from smiling so much.

ooo

"Wow," Gabriel said as they drove up a steep rise to the Great Northern Hotel. "It's...big."

"That's got to be at least three hundred rooms," Fritz said, peering up through his windshield.

"Apparently Twin Peaks is more of a tourist destination than I would've guessed," Brenda said.

"Look at the waterfall," Gabriel breathed.

Brenda looked over at the white water thundering over the edge of a hundred foot cliff lined with elegant firs. "That's lovely," she admitted.

They silently took in the scenery as they made it the rest of the way. "You know," Brenda said as she climbed out of the car. "I can imagine coming here for a vacation."

Then they got to the front door. With its door handles made out of deer antlers. "Forget I ever said that."

Gabriel grinned as he opened the door for everyone.

ooo

Brenda looked around the room, taking in the honey-brown pine walls (and the honey-brown floor and the honey-brown ceiling), the stuffed ducks in the corner, the antlers hanging up over the bed (which was framed with logs), and, the most awful, a gun rack made out of a pair of deer hooves. "Well, it's...rustic."

"Very," Fritz said dryly.

"At least the rates are reasonable?" Gabriel offered.

"More importantly, it's the only hotel in town," Fritz said.

"Well, come on in and grab a seat and...try not to think about what you're sitting on," Brenda ordered, choosing the bed since there was no obvious sign that it had been made from dead animals. "We need to talk strategy."

Gabriel dumped the bags he was carrying, Brenda's and his own, next to the door and sat in the overstuffed armchair next to the bed. Fritz, faced with sitting on the bed with Brenda or leaning on the dresser, chose the dresser. Brenda smothered a wince. "Okay, so it's clear that plan A isn't going to work," Fritz said.

Plan A had been for Brenda to be in charge of the investigation. "I think you're right," Brenda admitted. "So we're going with Plan B: Obviously, we're still consultants, but now Fritz is my superior and evaluating me based on my performance. Gabriel's my junior partner."

"So business as usual," Gabriel said. "Except Fritz is filling in for Chief Pope."

Brenda and Fritz exchanged a quick glance. "Let's not think about it quite like that," Fritz suggested.

Gabriel looked like he was trying really hard not to grin.

Brenda figured now was a good time to change the subject. "What did you think about the finger thing Cooper and the sheriff did?"

"Secret handshake," Gabriel said. "Maybe some sort of sign between the two of them?"

"Seven days is awfully fast for their relationship to get to secret signs," Fritz pointed out.

"Unless they're up to something they shouldn't be," Brenda suggested.

"Dale Cooper is not a criminal," Fritz said flatly.

"Maybe they're dating," Gabriel offered. "In a town like this, secret signs are probably the way to go if you're gay."

"Going back to what I said about seven days being awfully fast for--"

"Right, right, right," Brenda interrupted. "So for now we'll just keep the secret gesture in mind. If you see anyone else doing it, let me know." Brenda glanced at the clock on her nightstand (and shuddered; the nightstand was primarily composed of a deer leg) -- it was getting late and they had a lot to do today. "Okay, Fritz, I need you to go to the station and start spreading rumors about me. It'd be really nice if you could imply that I'm incompetent. Oh, and can you get me copies of the autopsy report and a DNA sample from the rape kit? And if you have the chance, can you find out why the DNA profiles haven't been run yet? And possibly samples of Jacques Renault and Leo Johnson's DNA for comparison?" By this point Fritz was wincing, but it wasn't like Brenda could get the information herself. "Thank you so much."

Fritz just shook his head. "What are you going to be doing?"

"Everything else," Brenda said with a sigh. She really missed her team. "We might as well start with the parents." She pulled out her temporary FBI identification and frowned. The word 'temporary' was significantly more visible than 'FBI'. "But first, I need to make a call."

"I'll leave you to it," Fritz said, hefting his duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder. He hadn't even bothered to set it down. "Give me a call when you're done with the Palmers."

"Will do," Brenda said brightly, already dialing her cell phone. She put it to her ear as Fritz opened the door, then frowned as it didn't ring. A quick check of the viewscreen revealed that she didn't have any service at the moment. "Damn," she muttered. She repeated it when Gabriel's phone also proved to be without service.

"This is going to be very frustrating," she said as she sat down to dial the old fashioned phone sitting on the side of the bed.

Thirty minutes later, she sat down at the little computer alcove off the front lobby and opened up an e-mail from Lieutenant Tao. The attachment contained two very official looking sets of FBI identification, with 'FBI' taking up half of each card. Brenda smiled.

"Are you sure that's legal?" Gabriel asked quietly.

"These are official identification cards," Brenda said. "As long as the FBI doesn't ask how we got them, we'll be fine."

"You're going to owe Tao something really big after this."

"I am indeed, Sergeant. Come on, we have witnesses to question."

ooo

The Palmer residence was nicer than Brenda had expected -- with the exception of an outdated kitchen, the furniture was top of the line and barely used, with a beautiful new carpet, and expensive fixtures. It was spotlessly clean, too, though every surface was covered with knickknacks: ashtrays, candy dishes, framed photographs, hand-knitted doilies, and homemade afghans. Brenda took a closer look at some of the photographs. They all featured Laura. The largest one was of Laura wearing a homecoming gown and a tiara; it must have been taking just a few weeks before Laura's death. "Your daughter was very beautiful," Brenda said gently.

Sarah Palmer lifted a cigarette to her mouth with a visibly shaking hand and took a long drag. "Yes, she was," she answered, her voice trembling almost as much as her hand. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon, Sarah was still wearing a robe and her heavily permed hair looked wild and greasy, as if she hadn't bothered to wash it in days. Cooper's notes said that she'd been taking sedatives since Laura's death, which made her a weak, though pliable, witness.

"Is there anyone else at home?" Brenda asked, keeping her voice soft and her movements non-threatening as she sat down in an armchair. She shot Gabriel a look and he sat down as well. "Your husband, perhaps?" she added.

"Leland's gone to work," Mrs. Palmer said bitterly. "His hair's white now, you know."

Brenda spared at glance at Gabriel, who was dutifully writing the comment down, even though his eyebrows were reaching for his hairline. "Is that a...recent development?" Brenda asked.

"It was brown yesterday," Mrs. Palmer said irritably. "He ruins everything."

Before Brenda could come up with a response to that intriguing statement, the front door opened. "Aunt Sarah?" a young female voice called. "I'm back from the store. They didn't have that hair dye you wa-- Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know you had guests." The new arrival held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Maddie, Laura's cousin."

Brenda took the hand, but she couldn't stop staring at the girl. She couldn't help it, because if Laura's cousin replaced that curly black hair with straight blond hair and got rid of the glasses, Maddie would look exactly, _exactly_ like Laura Palmer. She was even the same age and height. It was downright creepy.

"Very nice to meet you, Maddie. I'm Brenda Leigh Johnson and this is David Gabriel. We're with the FBI."

"Oh," Maddie said softly, sinking down onto the couch next to her aunt. "You're replacing Agent Cooper?"

"Just helping him out," Brenda said.

"I was really sorry to hear that he got hurt," Maddie added, her voice dripping with so much sincerity that Brenda would have thought it was faked, but for the fact that her expression was just as earnest. "He seemed like a really nice man."

"I'm sure he is," Brenda said with a comforting smile. "I was just asking your aunt some questions. Would you mind if I asked you a few?"

"Oh, but I wasn't here when Laura died. I came to help out after."

"That's so sweet of you," Brenda said. "But if you wouldn't mind staying anyway, for support." She looked at Sarah meaningfully. Mrs. Palmer didn't even seem to realize that they were talking about her.

"Oh! Of course," Maddie said. She took her aunt's free hand between her own. Sarah sucked down harder on her cigarette.

Brenda gave up on her smile, which wasn't doing much good anyway, and put on a sympathetic expression. "Mrs. Palmer, you said your husband was at work. Can you tell me where he works?"

"I think he helps out Mr. Horne," Maddie said after a moment of awkward silence, during which Sarah stared at the smoke from her cigarette like it was speaking to her.

"Mr. Horne?" Brenda asked, though the name sounded familiar.

"He owns the Horne's Department Store. And Horne's Hardware Store. And Horne's Grocery. And the Great Northern."

"Sounds like a busy guy," Gabriel said.

"He is," Maddie answered. "Why just a few days ago he had some Scandinavians staying at the hotel to talk about business. Or maybe they were Swedish?" She frowned. "Or Dutch?"

"And what does your uncle do for Mr. Horne?" Brenda asked quickly.

"Oh, he...he... Aunt Sarah, what does Uncle Leland do for Mr. Horne?"

Sarah pulled her hand away from her niece's and used it to light a new cigarette off of the butt of the old.

"It doesn't matter," Brenda said. "We can find out later. Let's talk about Laura."

That got Mrs. Palmer's attention. "Laura!" she cried, her eyes welling with tears. Maddie snagged her hand again and started patting it reassuringly.

Brenda soldiered on. "Mrs. Palmer, where did Laura say she was going to be the night she died?"

Mrs. Palmer grabbed a tissue with the same hand that was holding her cigarette and wiped her nose. The smoking coal on the cigarette got dangerously close to Mrs. Palmer's hair and Brenda had to smother a wince. "With Bobby," Mrs. Palmer said. "She said she was going to be with Bobby."

"And Bobby is?" Gabriel asked smoothly.

"Her boyfriend." She blinked sadly. "He's the star of the football team, you know."

So went the rest of the interview, a few moderately helpful answers mixed with a stream of non-sequiturs. Brenda learned that Donna Hayward was, indeed, Laura's best friend; that Sarah had never heard of James Hurley (though Maddie flinched when Gabriel said his name, which Brenda found interesting); that Laura occasionally worked at Horne's department store on top of everything else that she did; and that Leland Palmer was working the night Laura was killed, which meant he probably was going to be even less helpful than his wife.

Sarah's answers got less and less coherent until Brenda finally sighed and gave up. Grief had obviously broken this woman.

They were almost out the door when Brenda thought of one last question to ask: "Mrs. Palmer, do you stay up when your husband or your daughter are out late?"

"No," Sarah said, her voice a painful combination of hoarseness and weariness. "Leland sometimes works all night and Laura-" she sobbed once "-Laura didn't have a curfew on weekends."

"Okay," Brenda said, as Sarah broke down completely. "Thank you," she added, though it was doubtful either of the two women could hear her over Sarah's sobbing.

Once they were safely out the door, Gabriel said, "Works all night, huh? Think maybe he has a mistress?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility," Brenda said. "And I'll bet Mr. Horne the business partner knows all about it." She frowned. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"I think Laura was tutoring his son."

"Oh, right," Brenda said. Now that he said that, she also remembered something, "Agent Cooper also thinks he might be connected to the casino that Jacques Renault worked at." And Jacques Renault was the man who had implicated Leo Johnson in Laura's death and was subsequently murdered. Apparently everything in this town _did_ revolve around Laura Palmer.

"If you say so, Chief," Gabriel said.

"There are just too many names to remember in this case and not enough time to look over the case file," Brenda said with a sigh. "Come on. With any luck, Mr. Palmer is with Mr. Horne and we can kill two birds with one stone."

Since all of Twin Peaks appeared to be in a cell phone dead zone, Brenda had to find a pay phone to check in with Fritz. He sounded seriously annoyed at the world -- apparently Agent Cooper had checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice and was walking around asking questions like 'is that body bag smiling?' -- and found out that the most likely location to find Benjamin Horne was at the Great Northern. Apparently one of the perks of owning a hotel was that you and your family could live there for free.

"Thanks, Fritz," Brenda said. She covered the mouthpiece of handset and whispered to Gabriel, "We're going back to the hotel."

Speaking back into the phone, Brenda asked, "Did you get the DNA samples?"

_I'm headed there next. What do you want me to do with them when I get them?_

"Well, that depends. Did you find out why they haven't had the samples tested yet?"

_Yeah, DNA testing's way beyond the capabilities of the local hospital lab. They sent it to the FBI and are expecting the results back in a few weeks._

"Oh, for the love of -- okay, I need you to overnight the samples to Lieutenant Tao. I have his home address."

_That's breaking the chain of evidence._

"We won't use Lieutenant Tao's results in court," Brenda promised. "Not with official results coming from the FBI. I just need them ASAP for the investigation."

Fritz sighed, but didn't protest any further as she gave him the address. "We're heading to the Great Northern now to talk to Mr. Horne and, hopefully, Mr. Palmer. Do you want us to wait for you?"

_No, that's fine. I'll come over as soon as I've mailed off the samples and we can compare notes._

"All right. See you then. And thank you."

Fritz's voice sounded weary as he answered, _You're welcome, Brenda._

Brenda hung up the phone and huffed as she climbed into the car, "I can't imagine what they were thinking sending just Agent Cooper here. No wonder this case is such a disaster."

"Do you think we'll be able to solve it?" Gabriel asked pulling out onto the road. "I mean, we're outside our jurisdiction, with limited manpower, and the case is already over a week old."

Brenda compressed her lips and glared out of the windshield. "Oh, we'll solve it, David. There's no way this town is going to beat me."

In the awkward silence that followed, Brenda realized what she had just done. She immediately flushed, but kept her mouth shut. Apologizing for using his first name would just make the gaffe more noticeable.

Still, the silence lingered until they were almost back to the hotel, when Gabriel cleared his throat and said, "I can't believe we ended up back here."

A weak attempt, but at least he was trying. "At least we're getting familiar with the layout of the town," Brenda offered in return.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed and he shot a glance at her. "That's not a hint that you want to start driving, is it?"

"No, I--"

"'Cause it took you six months to stop getting lost in LA. I'm just saying." Gabriel smirked.

"You need to stop bringing that up," Brenda retorted, struggling to restrain a grin. "Wi-- I mean, Chief Pope hasn't mentioned my driving in months; you need to let it go."

"Chief Pope wasn't the one who had to explain why you were late to twelve crime scenes in a row."

"No, it wasn't twelve." She glanced over at Gabriel, who was nodding. "Really?"

"Tao kept track."

Oh dear. "But I have gotten better, haven't I?"

"You could hardly get worse."

Brenda restrained the urge to smack him.

"Tell you what: if you promise to let me do all the driving in Twin Peaks, I'll stop ragging on you about your driving in LA."

"Deal," Brenda said immediately, as Gabriel parked the car.

"That was too easy," he said.

"Too late now," she answered brightly.

They asked for Mr. Horne and Mr. Palmer at the front desk and were told that Mr. Horne was in a meeting. "Is there some place we can wait for him?" Brenda asked. The concierge looked a bit lost, so Brenda finally flashed her FBI credentials. "We really do need to speak with him as soon as possible."

"Oh," the woman said, her eyes getting wide. "Well, maybe you could wait in the breakfast room? It's empty right now, and there's fresh coffee if you'd like some."

"Perfect," Brenda said with a smile that she dropped the moment her back was turned. All this smiling was starting to make her feel like a politician.

She'd had several minutes to look around the breakfast room when David showed up with a paper in hand. "Sorry," he said. "I wanted to get a map of the town."

Brenda smirked, but didn't say anything. They both knew that she'd tease him mercilessly if he got them lost after their talk in the car.

As David--no, _Gabriel_. As _Gabriel_ looked over his map, Brenda found a map of her own to inspect, this one framed and hung on the wall by the door. It was a large, elegant, full-color map with a large tract on the northern end of town labeled "Future location of Ghostwood Country Club and Estates" in fancy golden calligraphy. Apparently Mr. Horne dabbled in a bit of real estate development in addition to owning every other store in town.

Brenda found the rest of the town more interesting, and spent a minute finding the places she knew: the police station, the hotel, and the hospital. When it came to locating the saw mill that had burned down last night, she had a bit more difficulty. "Sergeant Gabriel, could you come here, please?"

"What's up, Chief?"

"Let me borrow that map for a second." He handed it over with a curious look. It only took a second to see that the Packard Mill was smack dab in the middle of the future location of Ghostwood Country Club and Estates.

She pointed that out to Gabriel, who said, "Is it just me, Chief, or does this town seem to have enough potential crimes for a city ten times its size?"

"It's not you," Brenda said with a sigh. She was prevented from expounding on the topic by the arrival of a tall, well-groomed man in his early forties.

"Hello," the man said with a slick, polished smile. "I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

"Mr. Horne?" Brenda asked. The man nodded. "So very nice to meet you. "My name is Brenda Johnson and this is David Gabriel. We're here with the FBI."

"Very nice to meet you," Mr. Horne said, and he even managed to make it sound like he meant it. Definitely a politician. "Would you like a cup of coffee? No? Well, why don't we go to my office, then? It's much more comfortable."

His office was more comfortable. And huge. It was in the shape of a rectangle, with a few steps leading down from the door, a massive fireplace in one corner, and a large mahogany desk on the opposite wall. Not much in the way of seats, though, and Brenda wondered at the large amount of empty floor space in front of the desk. In the end, Mr. Horne had to pull two chairs from the otherwise empty corners of the room for Brenda and Gabriel to sit.

"So, what can I do for you?" Horne asked as he settled in behind his desk. From this angle he looked imposing, rather than slick.

"I just have a few question for you, if you don't mind. I understand that Laura was tutoring your son Johnny?"

Horne put on a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, Johnny has special needs. Laura was very good with him."

Brenda nodded. "And she also worked in your department store, is that correct?"

"She might have," Horne said with a shrug. "Many of our high school students work in one of my stores or another. But I wouldn't know the details of that myself. I have managers to oversee the day-to-day business of my stores."

"You are quite the business man, aren't you?"

Horne visibly swelled up with pride, and this time his smile sparkled in his eyes. "When I first came to Twin Peaks, it was a tiny little slip of a town with nothing but a grocery store and a gas station to its name. You had to drive to Spokane just to buy clothes. Now we have visitors from all over Washington, Idaho, Montana, and even Canada coming to explore the delights that Twin Peaks has to offer."

"That's quite impressive," Brenda said.

Horne beamed. "Thank you. I do my best."

"And Leland Palmer? How does he fit into this grand plan?"

"Ah, Leland." Horne's face settled into a perfect expression of appropriate grief. "Leland has been with me from the beginning. Small towns rarely have much vision, you know, and they fight all change, even change that is good for them. Leland was my local liaison, helping the townspeople to understand and accept all of the wonderful things that I was planning for Twin Peaks."

"_Was_ your liaison?" Gabriel interjected.

"_Is_," Horne said quickly. "Of course, he _is_ my liaison." He shrugged ruefully. "This tragedy has us all mixed up."

At that moment a voice came through the door. A loud, _singing_ voice:

_"Now if the words sound queer  
And funny to your ear  
A little bit jumbled and jivey  
Say, "Mares eat oats  
And does eat oats  
And little lambs eat iiiiiiivy"._


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Horne winced and said very quickly, "You have to understand, he wasn't like this until today. I think, we _all_ think, that hearing that Laura's killer was found has caused him to have a nervous breakdown."

At that moment, a white-haired man with dark brown eyebrows came into the room sporting a huge grin. "Mission accomplished," he said brightly.

Brenda stared for a moment before she remembered herself. "Mr. Palmer, I presume?"

"Why yes," he answered, coming forward and holding out a hand. Brenda took it, expecting a handshake, but instead she was pulled out of her chair and twirled around the room as Leland Palmer continued to hum his song.

A hurried glance at Gabriel showed him to be out of his chair and clearly about to intervene. Probably with extreme prejudice. Brenda shook her head at him. He scowled, but sat back down.

"Mr. Palmer, my name is Brenda Johnson and I'm with the FBI."

Mr. Palmer just smiled and continued to dance her around the room.

"I have some questions about your daughter."

At that, Mr. Palmer let Brenda go and stumbled back a few steps, burying his face in his hands. "Laura!" he wailed. He collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

Apparently Mrs. Palmer wasn't the only one who had been broken by grief.

"It's best to just let it run its course," Mr. Horne said, making no move to comfort his friend and business partner.

Brenda turned to Horne. "Sir, Mrs. Palmer told us that Mr. Palmer was working late the night Laura was killed."

"That's right," Horne said. "We were preparing for a presentation the next day. He didn't leave here till midnight."

Brenda nodded thoughtfully. "And the other times that Mr. Palmer worked late? When he worked all night?"

Horne looked panicked for a second before an expression of righteous indignation crossed his face. "I don't like what you're implying Agent Johnson. Leland Palmer is devoted to his family. He would never do anything to hurt them."

Interesting. Brenda smiled and said, "Of course, of course. Thank you so much for your time Mr. Horne and..." she glanced at the ground where Mr. Palmer was moaning into the carpet "...well. Thank you again."

Stepping around the man crying on the floor, Brenda and Gabriel beat a hasty retreat. As soon as they reached the safety of the hallway, Gabriel said, "Mistress?"

"Definitely," Brenda answered. "Come on, I need to make a phone call."

ooo

Fritz wasn't at the hospital anymore and Brenda cursed the lack of cell coverage as she flipped through the yellow pages looking for the number for the sheriff's office. "It's like being in another time, isn't it," Gabriel said sympathetically from his seat on the room's lone chair.

"And not in a good way," Brenda said with a frown as she finally found the number and dialed. Five minutes later she hung up the phone and sighed.

"Fritz wants us to come to the sheriff's station. Apparently Agent Cooper has something he wants to share."

"You know, I've known guys who've gotten shot," Gabriel said. "They don't usually bounce back this quickly."

"I suspect Agent Cooper has a history of doing things not expected of him," Brenda said. "Just give me one moment and we can go," she added, dialing. "I've got one more call to make."

Lieutenant Provenza was bored. Really bored. So bored that he was actually contemplating joining the poker game in the corner, even though he knew better to play against Flynn, who though cheating was just part of the game. Unfortunately the only other options were doing paperwork by hand or, worse, reporting to Commander Taylor.

Fortunately the phone rang before he was reduced to such dire straits. He snagged it before anyone else had a chance. "Priority homicide."

_Hello, Lieutenant Provenza._

"Chief!" Provenza grinned. He knew he could count on her to keep things lively. Daniels, Sanchez, and Flynn put down their cards as he spoke, and Lieutenant Tao abandoned his book on forensic accounting.

_I take it from that indiscreet greeting that Chief Pope is not around._

"Haven't seen him since this morning."

_All the same, I'd feel better if you went to my office. That way you can put me on speakerphone._

"Sure thing, Chief." He put her on hold and headed to the office. At the door, he looked back at everyone else, all still watching from their original seats. "Well come on then."

They all scrambled to follow. Once inside the office, Flynn promptly took the Chief's chair, leaving everyone else to find what seats they could.

Provenza closed the blinds and posted Sanchez to keep watch for Chief Pope before picking up the phone and putting it on speaker. "Okay, Chief, we're ready."

_Thank you, Lieutenant Provenza. First, how is the paperwork on the Lucinda Scott case coming?_

"Not so good, Chief," Sanchez said. "_Someone_ opened up an e-mail attachment that he shouldn't have and let loose a virus. We lost everything we had typed up on the case so far and the computers are down for the moment."

_Really? Well, when I get back I'll make sure the person responsible gets exactly what he deserves._

Lieutenant Tao grinned smugly and leaned back in his chair. Provenza could tell the man was already coming up with what he wanted from the Chief for creating that computer virus.

_Next, I want to make it very clear that you cannot talk about this case with anyone outside of the department. If anyone asks, you are tying up loose ends on the Scott case._ There was a flurry of agreement. _Thank you. Okay, before I left I put a copy of the case file in right hand drawer of my desk._

Flynn immediately pulled open a drawer, which proved to be chock full of candy, chips, snack crackers, and cookies. "I don't see it, Chief."

_Really? What do you see?_

"...junk food?"

_Right hand drawer, Lieutenant, not left hand drawer._

"Oh, right. Okay, I found it." He opened the file and set the file on the desk.

_I'll let you read it for the details, but the basic facts of the case are these: a high school student named Laura Palmer was abducted eight days ago in Twin Peaks, Washington, along with a nineteen-year-old woman named Ronette Pulaski. Both woman were raped and tortured and Laura was murdered. Before her death, she had sex with three men. Lieutenant Tao, I'm having DNA samples sent to your house. One is from the rape kit and the other two are from men who might have had sexual relations with Laura that night. I'll need those results back immediately._

"Uh, Chief, I don't think I can pass that off as being related to the Scott case."

_I'll leave it up to you what you tell them, Lieutenant._ Tao looked a lot less smug now. _Also, I'll be faxing over the results of the autopsy and rape kit. I'll need you to look over that as well, see if they missed anything._

"Yes, ma'am," Tao said, sounding depressed. Provenza smirked.

_Detective Sanchez, how are your contacts in Narcotics and Vice?_

"Pretty good," he answered, still watching the murder room through a crack in the blinds. "Gangs do a lot of business in both."

_Good. I want you to see what your friends know about drugs coming down from Canada. I also need you to look into a pornographic magazine called Flesh World. They have a section for amateurs to advertise and they forward letters to the amateurs to ensure no direct contact. Laura and Ronette were both listed and their letters were forwarded to the same PO box. I need you to see if any other girls in the magazine used that box. You'll have to get the information from Flesh World directly, but it shouldn't be too hard to get a warrant if necessary, considering what happened to Laura and Ronette. Go back at least three years._

Sanchez grinned. "I'll get right on that, ma'am."

_Detective Daniels, do you know any federal judges?_

"I might. Depends on what you want from them."

_I'll need you to get warrants to go through the finances of Leland Palmer and Benjamin Horne, both from Twin Peaks. And, while you're at it, for the Packard Sawmill. There's a good chance Horne owns at least part of a brothel and casino just north of the Canadian border called One Eyed Jacks; he may be using it to launder drug money._

"I'm not sure I can get a warrant with that, Chief. Canada's, well...Canada."

_Horne and Palmer were also trying to buy the sawmill for a real estate development they were working on. The owner refused to sell and last night it was burned to the ground. There's definite signs of arson._

"That I can work with," Daniels said, already taking notes.

"What about me?" Provenza asked.

The chief sighed. _How would you and Lieutenant Flynn feel about using some of your vacation time to do some undercover work for this case?_

Provenza glanced at Flynn, who snorted and shook his head. "I've been saving my days," Provenza hedged.

_What if I told you that the undercover work was at a Canadian brothel and casino?_

"Well, hell, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Provenza asked. "I'm in."

"Me, too, Chief," Flynn added.

"Hey, why do they get to go?" Sanchez asked, turning to glare at the phone.

_Because Sergeant Gabriel has single-handedly increased the minority population of the town by fifty percent,_ the Chief answered, her voice dry.

Sanchez turned back to the window, sulking. "Oh, shit, Pope is here."

_Wh--_

Provenza snatched the phone off the hook and set it on the desk, then strategically positioned himself between the office door and the phone. Behind him, he heard Flynn hiding the file, and not a moment too soon as the office door burst open a second later and Pope stormed in.

"What are you all doing in here?" he snapped.

"Well," Tao started. "As you know, all of our computers are down so..."

"So you should be reporting to Commander Taylor until they come back up," Pope said.

"We were going to," Daniels said, "but first we had to..." She stuttered to a halt, unable to come up with anything.

Oh, for the love of... "We had to plan a party," Provenza said. "To welcome Chief Johnson home."

"She's been gone less than a day," Pope retorted.

"Well, we didn't want to do everything at the last minute," Provenza said reasonably.

Pope opened his mouth, no doubt to send them all packing over to Commander Taylor, when Flynn said, "You want the truth, Chief?"

"I would love nothing more," Pope answered.

Flynn took out his toothpick and said with surprisingly believable sincerity, "The truth is, we all gave Chief Johnson a hard time when she started." There were a few snorts and meaningful looks from the rest of the room and Flynn rolled his eyes. "Okay, me more than most. Anyway, we just wanted to show her that we really do appreciate her and we thought a welcome home party would do the trick."

"Oh," Pope said, looking mollified. "That is very commendable. Carry on. But as soon as the computers are back up, I fully expect to see you all finishing up the Scott paperwork."

"Of course," Flynn said, popping his toothpick back in his mouth.

Pope gave them all another suspicious look then left, shaking his head. Provenza waited till Sanchez gave the thumbs up before putting the phone back on speaker.

_A welcome home party?_

"Well, you know we miss you, Chief," Provenza said.

"Oh, I don't know," Flynn said. "Sort've feels like she never left."

The chief sighed. _Provenza and Flynn, I'll need you to come up here tomorrow. You're in deep cover, which means no face-to-face contact with me or Gabriel. I'll call you later with more details. Also, and this is for everyone, there's no cell coverage in Twin Peaks, so I'll need you to send everything to me by e-mail. Any questions?_

"Yeah, I have one," Flynn said. "How're we supposed to get Pope to give us the time off?"

_I have faith in your ability to bullshit, Lieutenant._

Flynn, of course, looked proud.

_If you need me, you can send me an e-mail or leave me a message at the Great Northern Hotel in Twin Peaks. Flynn and Provenza, I'll expect your call once you know your arrival time and before you begin packing. Otherwise, good luck and thank you all. Thank you very much._

She hung up and Provenza did the same.

There was a moment of silence before Daniels said, "You do realize that we're going to have to throw her an actual party now, right?"

"_You_ are going to have to throw her a party," Provenza said, gleefully. "Flynn and I have to do some deep undercover work with a few ladies of the working persuasion."

He and Flynn gave each other a discreet high-five.

Sanchez continued to sulk.

ooo

As they drove to the sheriff's office, Gabriel asked, "What's One Eyed Jacks have to do with Laura's murder?"

"Aside from the fact that Renault, one of the last people to see Laura alive, works there?" Brenda asked. Gabriel shot her a look. "I'm not sure yet, Sergeant. Agent Cooper went there last night, but didn't note why in his files."

"Maybe he just went to gamble."

"Does he seem like the gambling type to you?" Brenda asked, amused.

"Not really," Gabriel said. "But we just got here."

"True," Brenda said with a sigh. "And it's already obvious we need backup. Once Flynn and Provenza get here, I'll find more for them to do."

Gabriel grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

When they pulled into the parking lot behind the sheriff's office, they found it nearly full. "It appears we have visitors," Brenda said as Gabriel took the last spot in the lot.

"Looks like," Gabriel said. He sounded about as happy as Brenda felt.

Lucy the receptionist met them at the door and silently escorted them to the conference room; Brenda wondered if the other woman was always this quiet or if she just didn't like out-of-towners. She was still wondering when she stepped into the room and froze in horror. "Oh my God," Gabriel muttered behind her.

Doughnuts. Dozens, maybe even _hundreds_, of doughnuts lined the napkin-covered conference table, carefully arranged in stacks of two. There had to be at least ten varieties there, and from the profusion of crumbs and jelly smears in front of Agent Cooper, he'd tried at least three of them already. The man must have a metabolism of a hummingbird.

"Come on in, Brenda," Fritz said. He was sitting a couple of seats down from Agent Cooper and was working on his own pile of crumbs. "Lucy put out a snack for us."

"So I see," Brenda said, stepping into the room but staying close to the wall, as far back from temptation as possible. Gabriel stuck close to her side.

Agent Cooper wiped powdered sugar off one hand and gestured to a tall, attractive man in a black suit standing at the end of the conference table. "Brenda Johnson, David Gabriel, I'd like you to meet Albert Rosenfield. He's done most of the forensics on this case."

"Very nice to meet you, I'm sure," Brenda said, stepping closer and holding out her hand.

Rosenfield looked over Brenda and Gabriel with a sneer. "Affirmative action is alive and well, I see."

Fritz scowled and stood up. Agent Cooper shook his head wearily. Sheriff Truman, sitting next to him, sighed. Deputy Andy, standing in the corner, looked like he wanted to cry.

Gabriel glanced at Brenda's expression, muttered "oh shit", and took a big step back.

Clearly he was expecting a show, and Brenda found herself quite unwilling to let him down. She dropped her hand and gave Rosenfield her brightest smile.

Fritz murmured "oh fuck" and took his own big step back.

Rosenfield's sneer grew as Brenda stepped closer. "You're cute, honey, and I like blondes, but I'm here on business."

"Albert," Agent Cooper said in a warning voice.

"Agent Rosenfield, I've heard of you," Brenda said, smoothly cutting Agent Cooper off. "You're the genius forensics expert, right?" Rosenfield preened just a little. Brenda's voice hardened. "The one who had Laura Palmer's body for over eight hours and didn't have time to finish an autopsy?"

Rosenfield flushed a bright red and Cooper's hand, which had been held out in warning, suddenly dropped. Along with his jaw, which fell open to imitate Truman's and the deputy's. "I wonder," Brenda said softly. "What were you doing in all that time?"

Fritz made a pained noise and Brenda could just imagine him covering his face with his hand. Well, it was just too bad. She wasn't done yet.

"Now, I'll admit that your forensic work thus far has been...adequate--" another choked off noise from Fritz "--but after a week you still haven't gotten DNA results, you didn't bother fingerprinting the crime scene, and your lousy attitude is making my job more difficult. Now why don't you sit down and keep your mouth shut unless you have something useful to say."

Rosenfield opened his mouth. Brenda took a step closer and _glared_. Rosenfield glanced at Agent Cooper, who was looking gobsmacked, back at Brenda, who narrowed her eyes, and sat down.

"Now then," Brenda said, stepping back and tingeing her voice with honeyed sweetness. "Agent Cooper, I believe you had something to tell us."

There was a pause before Cooper closed his mouth. "Right. Right. Please, sit down. This might take a while."

Brenda wrinkled her nose at the doughnuts and carefully pulled a chair a couple of feet away from the table before sitting in it. Gabriel waited till she was seated, then did the same.

Agent Cooper took a long sip of his coffee and started. "The night Laura Palmer was killed, it appears she made two appointments. In her diary she had written, 'Nervous about meeting J tonight'. I now believe that this was in reference to James Hurley."

Brenda thought back to the case file. James was Laura's secret boyfriend, who she was seeing behind the back of her official boyfriend, Bobby.

"She was nervous because she planned to tell him that she didn't want to see him anymore. Before she snuck out of the house she received a phone call."

Rosenfield recovered himself enough to jump in. "We believe it was Leo Johnson making the second appointment for sometime later that night."

Cooper went on, "Laura met James, was with him until 12:30 when, at the intersection of Sparkwood and 21, she jumped from the bike and ran into the woods. We believe that it was there that she met Jacques Renault, Leo Johnson, and Ronette Pulaski. Together, they drove to the foot of the trail leading to Jacques's cabin. They climbed the trail and were heard passing by the cabin of the Log Lady."

Log Lady? Brenda frowned. She needed to read the file again. This was one of the many downsides to coming into a case this late in the game. Fortunately she remembered everyone else; Ronette was the woman Laura had been abducted with, Renault was the man who had fingered Johnson for the murder, and Leo Johnson was the man behind virtually every crime in the history of the town, if the evidence so far was to be believed.

"They reached Jacques Renault's cabin at approximately one a.m. Drugs and alcohol were consumed; Laura was tied up and had sexual relations with both Leo and Jacques. Waldo the bird was let out of his cage and attacked Laura."

Which explained the scratches the autopsy had found on Laura's shoulder. Gabriel looked confused, probably because he hadn't had as much time to go over the file as Brenda.

Cooper continued. "Leo and Jacques fought. Jacques went outside and passed out. When he came to, Leo and the girls were gone. We believe Leo hiked back down the trail to his Corvette alone, leaving the girls behind."

Rosenfield explained, "The reason being, there was a third man."

Cooper noted, "Deputy Hawk found evidence of a third man outside the window of Jacque's cabin."

Presumably this man was other man who had had sex with Laura that night. And most likely was the one who tortured and killed her as well.

Rosenfield continued, "The third man took Laura and Ronette to the train car, where they were tied up -- Laura for the second time, Ronette for the first."

Train car: that was the crime scene no one had seen fit to fingerprint. Brenda sighed.

"Using a blunt object, the killer hit Ronette and knocked her unconscious," Cooper said. "He must have been so intent on killing Laura, he didn't realize that Ronette regained consciousness and escaped."

"Either he didn't know or he didn't care that she escaped," Rosenfield said flatly. "He made a small mound of dirt and put the half-heart necklace of Laura's on top."

Gabriel was looking confused again, but Brenda remembered reading about the necklace in the file. It was the kind that came in two parts; Laura had one half and Agent Cooper had hypothesized that the killer had the second half.

Rosenfield went on to describe the rest of the crime scene, including the fact that a small printed letter 'R' had been placed under Laura's fingernail (which was what tied this murder to that of Teresa Banks the year before), and the note, written in blood (AB negative, probably the killers -- damn, Brenda had forgotten to ask Fritz to get a sample of that to Tao. She'd have to remember tomorrow). The note read: FIRE WALK WITH ME. They also found a towel, soaked in the same blood type, and some scraps of paper five miles down the tracks from the train car where Laura was murdered.

At this point, Deputy Andy started crying. Rosenfield sighed and said, "I know, Andy. I know, I know, I know. It's what we call a real three-hankie crime."

Brenda shot him a glare and dug in her purse for a tissue. Andy took it, then stood up and said, "Albert Rozerfeld--" Gabriel snickered "--I don't like the way you talk smart about Sheriff Truman or anybody. You just shut your mouth."

Then he stormed out, which was probably for the best, since Rosenfield promptly started laughing.

Brenda rolled her eyes and spoke right over the laughter, "Thank you, Agent Cooper, that was a very helpful synopsis of the case so far. I have a couple of questions, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Cooper said with a smile. He claimed another doughnut. Jelly.

Brenda made herself focus on his face, rather than his sugar-filled hand. "What does One Eyed Jacks have to do with Laura's murder?"

The room suddenly got very silent and Brenda took the opportunity to glance around. Rosenfield looked confused but hid it well, Lucy looked confused and hid it poorly, and everyone else looked very, very guilty.

Sheriff Truman cleared his throat. "Ah, Jacques Renault worked at One Eyed Jacks as a dealer. And there was a piece of a Jacks token in Laura's stomach."

"And is that why Agent Cooper and--" Brenda checked the file "--Big Ed went undercover there last night?" She frowned a little. Big Ed again. Maybe he was getting so involved with this case because Laura was secretly seeing his nephew, James?

"No," Truman said, rubbing his eye in a gesture very reminiscent to the secret handshake Brenda had already seen him use. A little farther down the table, Deputy Andy, looking confused, did the secret handshake himself and Brenda groaned silently as she realized what it meant. She should have figured it out earlier.

"That was a personal favor, to me," Truman added, by way of explanation.

Brenda dragged her attention back to the matter at hand. "But he was gambling with funds from the FBI."

"Only temporarily," Cooper said. "I've returned the money with ten percent interest."

She considered that for a moment. "Okay, we'll come back to that later." After Provenza and Flynn had had a chance to check the place out, for example. "Back to the necklace. In your file, you noted that the other half of the necklace was probably in the possession of the killer. Have you made any progress in tracking it down?"

"Actually, we have." Cooper pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and set it on the table. "As it turns out, James Hurley had the necklace. He got it from Dr. Jacoby, Laura's psychologist. It was in a coconut."

Brenda sighed. Of course it was. "Have you questioned Jacoby about this?"

"He was knocked unconscious with a hard blow to his head a couple of days ago and is still less than coherent."

"He thinks Laura is still alive," Truman explained.

"Ah." Brenda made a note to mention the necklace when she went to interview the good doctor. "Back to James Hurley then. The drugs that were found in his bike -- do you have any idea where they might have come from?"

"We've always suspected that Leo Johnson was running drugs," Truman said. "We just couldn't ever prove it."

"And you think Hurley is one of Johnson's dealers?"

Truman and Cooper exchanged a glance. "No, but until we can figure out where the drugs came from, we think the safest place for James is in jail."

Interesting. Brenda wondered what James would do if she gave _him_ the secret handshake gesture. "Back to Laura -- do you have any idea who might have killed Jacques Renault?"

"None," Cooper said with a sigh.

"The 'hospital' here doesn't have security," Rosenfield said with a sneer and for once, Brenda couldn't blame him. What kind of hospital let someone walk in and simply kill a patient?

Brenda sat back in her chair and finally allowed herself to ask the questions she'd been wanting to ask ever since she arrived in this town. "Sheriff Truman, how many murders do you typically have in a year?"

Truman cleared his throat and didn't meet her eye as he answered, "None."

"And major instances of arson?"

"None."

"Gunshot wounds? Other than hunting accidents, of course."

"None."

"Arrests for drug possession?"

"A few."

Brenda glanced at the folder. "For quantities equivalent to six ounces of cocaine?"

Truman winced. "None."

Brenda nodded. "Now, let me just make sure I'm understanding this correctly: in the last week you've had two murders, at least three attempted murders, at least two cases of aggravated assault, one case of drug possession with the intent to distribute, and let's not forget the fact that two people were locked in a building before someone tried to burn it down." Everyone but her team and Rosenfield were exchanging uneasy glances. "Am I the only one who thinks that some, if not all, of these crimes might be related?"

"That does seem possible," Agent Cooper allowed.

Brenda closed the case file, stood up, and crossed her arms. "Now, I had planned on being nicer about all of this, but this town seems to have lost its mind and if we don't start making some progress immediately, more people are likely to be killed. Agent Cooper, I'm going to need a full list of every person you interviewed with as much detail from each interview as you can remember. Sheriff Truman, I need Ronette Pulaski, Leo Johnson, Dr. Jacoby, Shelly Johnson, and anyone else who has been injured in the last three days put on a closed ward with a guard at all times. No one goes in or out of that ward without my say-so. There needs to be a second guard at Leo Johnson's door. Again, no one goes in or out unless I okay it."

The sheriff was nodding, as well he should be, since all of this should have been done long before Brenda came into town. If it had, Jacques Renault might still be alive.

But she wasn't done yet. "I also need warrants for financial records for the Packard Sawmill, for the Palmers, and for Benjamin Horne." There, Daniels would appreciate that. "If any known criminals have come into town within the last week, I'll need to know that as well.

"Finally, I'll be here at eight tomorrow morning to interview every person who worked on this case, including deputies. I'll also want to interview James Hurley. I'll be happy to go to the hospital to interview whichever person or persons are placed on guard duty. Any questions?"

A whole table of men stared back at her.

She smiled. "Excellent. Thank you, thank you so much."

Grabbing her purse, she turned and walked out, trusting Gabriel and Fritz to follow.

Halfway to the outside door, Fritz said, "So I guess we're giving up on that whole 'incompetent consultant' plan?"

"I'm afraid so. Sorry."

"No, that's fine. I actually told them that you were one of the best the FBI had."

Brenda stopped and stared at him. "What?"

Fritz rolled his eyes. "Come on, Brenda. Do you really think you could pull off the dumb blonde act for as long as this case is going to last? It could take weeks."

"Oh, Lord, I hope not," Brenda said, starting up again. "It's only been a few hours and already I'm ready to go home."

"Well, just remember that you're here to solve the murder of Laura Palmer," Fritz said as Gabriel held the door for them both. "You don't have to solve the other eighteen crimes currently plaguing the town."

"Unfortunately, I'm starting to think that everything going on here is connected. That or Twin Peaks has the worst luck of any town on earth. Thank you, Sergeant," she added as Gabriel unlocked the car door and held it for her. "I think we should discuss this further over some dinner."

"There's a diner that I've heard is pretty good," Fritz offered.

"Sounds good to me," Brenda said, climbing into the car. Gabriel shut the door, muffling his and Fritz's voices as they squabbled over who would get to drive. Brenda just closed her eyes and rested her head back against the car seat.

She really wished she'd taken a doughnut.

ooo

The Double R Diner proved to be empty enough to get a table without waiting, but crowded enough that they couldn't discuss an open murder investigation. Especially considering the town was small enough that anything that they said would undoubtedly be known by every Twin Peaks citizen within two hours of it being overheard.

Instead, they made small talk. Well, Gabriel made small talk, while Brenda and Fritz avoided looking or speaking to each other. Part of the problem was that Fritz and Gabriel had taken opposite sides of the booth, leaving Brenda with the decision of who she was going to sit next to. After the whole dresser incident earlier, Brenda certainly wasn't going to sit next to Fritz. Unfortunately, that meant she was stuck staring at Fritz while at the same time trying to ignore the fact that her close proximity to David made her skin tingle with anticipation. All in all, it was one of the least comfortable dinners she'd ever endured.

The situation grew a bit less tense when they returned to the hotel, thanks to the fact that they could now focus on work. Gabriel went to his own room, which was next door to Brenda's, to get a second chair and while waiting for his return Brenda asked Fritz where his room was. "Next to Agent Cooper's," Fritz said.

Brenda nodded. "Did you know Agent Cooper before this case?"

"A little. He has a reputation in DC."

"I'll bet," Brenda said dryly. Fortunately Gabriel's return derailed the rest of the conversation.

Once they were all settled, Brenda started off with, "I know what the secret handshake means." She paused for dramatic effect and said, "This town has a secret society."

Gabriel and Fritz both started laughing. When she didn't join in, Gabriel said, "Really?"

"Deputy Andy is also a member," Brenda said. "Which probably means everyone in the sheriff's office is, with the possible exception of Lucy."

"From what I've seen of this town so far, Lucy isn't a member," Fritz said.

"I gotta agree," Gabriel said.

"And yet, after a week, Agent Cooper is going on secret society missions." Brenda sighed. "I hate this town."

"So let's get out of it as soon as possible," Fritz said. "Where are we in the investigation?"

"Well, let's see: based on the _Flesh World_ ads, Laura was working as a prostitute and there's a brothel just across the border. Those two facts might be related. Both she and Ronette were listed in _Flesh World_, with a PO box that belongs to Jacques Renault, which probably means whether or not they worked at the brothel, he was working as their pimp. Jacques and Leo shared the girls the night of Laura's death, so either they were working together with regards to the prostitution, or there is some other connection between the two. Laura was doing cocaine and her boyfriend James Hurley is in prison on suspicion of dealing cocaine."

"Except that she was about to break up with James," Gabriel said.

"That's a good point." Brenda considered that for a moment. "The sheriff's office searched James's bike for drugs based on an anonymous tip. If it is a frame, it isn't a very complicated one."

"Who would want to frame James Hurley?" Fritz asked.

"The obvious answer would be Laura's official boyfriend, Bobby Briggs," Gabriel said. "And if he knew about her affair with James, it might be reason enough to kill her."

"Not to mention all the other men she was having sex with," Fritz said dryly.

"We'll have to talk to him tomorrow," Brenda said wearily. "D- Sergeant Gabriel, could you start a list of tomorrow's interviews? We'll prioritize them once we know what we're dealing with."

"Sure thing." Gabriel pulled out his notebook and began writing.

"Who else would have a motive so far?" Brenda asked. Without the rest of her team to play devil's advocate, she took the role herself. "Leo Johnson and Jacques Renault?"

"Presumably Laura was making them money, and even if she wasn't, they were obviously getting something from her," Fritz said.

"But she had a drug habit, probably an expensive drug habit," Brenda pointed out.

"It's not quite as expensive if Johnson's the one bringing the drugs in," Fritz said.

Gabriel cut in before Brenda could answer. "You know what I want to know? How does a girl like Laura -- a straight-A student, popular, active in her community, from a good family -- how does a girl like that end up hooked on drugs and selling herself? What could make a girl like that throw her life away?"

"That's a really good question, Sergeant," Brenda said. She considered for a moment. "Mental illness, maybe? Depression or bipolar disorder?"

"Abuse in the home," Fritz offered. "Or maybe she was molested when she was younger. A lot of survivors of childhood sexual assault become self-destructive, especially once puberty hits." Brenda and Gabriel stared at him. "What? I wasn't made a profiler because of my good looks, you know."

"Maybe it was just too difficult being perfect," Brenda said. "Just look at her list of volunteer activities: Meals on Wheels, helping Josie Packard with her English, tutoring Johnny Horne. Plus she was a cheerleader, was on several school committees, and she had extra duties as the queen of the homecoming court. Mix in not one but two boyfriends and all of the work necessary to be a straight-A student, and you have a girl under serious pressure."

Now it was Brenda's turn to be stared at. She frowned back. "Until we know for sure what motivated her, we should keep all possibilities in mind. And we should get back to the list of interviews for tomorrow."

Fritz smiled a bit, but said, "What about her best friend? Donna, I think?"

"Yes, definitely. Also, Leo Johnson's wife. We need to see what she knew about her husband's businesses."

"And, of course, all of the folks at the sheriff's office," Gabriel said.

Brenda groaned. She'd forgotten about those. "Read the list so far, please, Sergeant."

"Sheriff Truman, Deputy Andy, Deputy Hawk, James Hurley, Bobby Briggs, Donna, and Leo Johnson's wife."

"Not to mention Leo Johnson himself if he wakes up, and I'm assuming you want to interview Agent Cooper as well."

"Yes, I will. I think that's enough for one day. We'll do the sheriff's office first, so whoever is there, plus James, then everyone at the hospital, then Donna, Bobby, and Agent Cooper last, but only if we haven't caught him at the station or the hospital. What do you think?"

"I think you're the boss," Gabriel said, closing his notebook.

"Are you going to want me to sit in on the interviews, or do you have another job in mind for me?" Fritz asked.

"Well, I will need you to get a DNA sample from that bloody towel they found near the murder site, but I'll also need to you to be in the interviews." Brenda took a deep breath; she didn't think Fritz was going to like this. "I need you to stand behind Gabriel and myself and, well, give the secret handshake."

Fritz stared at her. "You mean you want me to sit in on every interview, just so I can rub my eyebrow?"

Brenda tried her best smile. "Yes?"

Fritz rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Fine. But unless you think I need more prep for eyebrow rubbing, I'm going to bed. I've been working on this since we got word of Agent Cooper's shooting this morning."

"Fair enough," Brenda said brightly. "Sleep tight."

"Goodnight, Agent Howard," Gabriel added as Fritz headed for the door. Fritz just waved aimlessly in response.

"How about you, Sergeant? I know you had a late night last night." Brenda was proud at how casual her voice sounded.

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to spend some more time looking at the file," Gabriel said. "There was a lot of stuff I didn't understand at the meeting. For example, what's a Log Lady?"

"I have no idea," Brenda admitted. "Hopefully not some poor woman the town thinks looks like a log." She sat down next to him, close enough that they could both see the file. "Where do you want to start?"

"How about the crime scene. How did they find it?"

Brenda flipped back a few pages and read: 'Deputy Hawk was first to discover the crime scene using the tracking skills inherent to all of our Land's noble native peoples.'

"It doesn't really say that, does it?" Brenda pointed out the passage and let him read it. Gabriel shook his head. "I'm guessing that's one more question for Deputy Hawk, right?"

"Definitely. Now the crime scene itself is an abandoned boxcar just west of the Washington-Idaho border. They didn't dust for prints, but they did find some pieces of twine that had been used to tie up the girls, a small mound of dirt with a necklace on it, a note with 'Fire Walk With Me' written on it in blood -- type AB negative -- and, let's see, some traces of soap that was also found on Laura's body. The FBI's forensics team thinks the killer washed his hands before wrapping the body up and dumping it."

"Any towns nearby?"

"None within ten miles." Brenda rubbed her eyes and added softly, "No gags, because there was no one who could hear them scream."

"How do you think the killer found the boxcar? It sounds pretty isolated."

Brenda shrugged. "My guess is he stumbled across it sometime earlier and it happened to be a convenient kill site. It's unlikely he found it after picking up the girls."

"That's another question: how did our killer get the girls to come with him?" Gabriel considered his own question for a moment before saying, "There's no defensive wounds, so either they were incapacitated when he found them or they knew him and went willingly."

"Considering he had to knock Ronette unconscious, I'm guessing it's the latter. Maybe he's another john," Brenda suggested.

"Or maybe a friend or a family member? One of Laura's boyfriends?" Gabriel offered.

"Fortunately we're talking to both of them tomorrow." Brenda rubbed her eyes again. They were starting to get sore and gritty from exhaustion. Suddenly something occurred to her: "You know, I forgot to ask whether the third man had sex with Ronette as well."

"From the description Cooper and Rosenfield gave of the situation tonight, I doubt it, unless he got his kicks from raping an unconscious girl."

"I agree," Brenda said thoughtfully. "Which means that Ronette was collateral damage. This attack was specifically geared towards Laura."

"But it also means that Ronette must have seen Laura's killer."

"That is an excellent point, Sergeant," Brenda said with a smile. "One that I hadn't thought of." Suddenly she frowned. "And I doubt our friendly local sheriff had thought of it either. It's a miracle Ronette is still alive."

That unpleasant thought sat in the air for several seconds before Gabriel cleared his throat. "So, the case?"

"Right," Brenda said, grateful for the distraction. "We should start making a list of where everyone was at the time of Laura's death. And leave a lot of blank space -- I'm sure we're going to find a lot more persons of interest before this investigation is done."

They spent an hour or so working on people's alibis, though they ended up with more questions than answers when all was said and done. Most would be easily cleared up in the interviews, but every interview took time.

Then they started on a list of everyone connected to the case and started listing possible motives. It wasn't the most efficient way to spend their time, but there were so many people who were potentially involved in this case, and so many names to remember, that they both decided it was worth it just to fully familiarize themselves with the case. At least it was better than flash cards.

It was well after midnight when Brenda tossed down her pen and declared, "That's it, I'm done. My brain is going on strike until tomorrow."

Gabriel grinned. "I don't blame it. We're definitely putting in overtime on this one."

"And I didn't even get a doughnut as a reward. Although..." She got up and started poking around on her dresser. After a few seconds she gave a cry of triumph and pulled out a plastic bag. "How about a midnight snack?"

"Yes, please," Gabriel said. "Please tell me they included forks."

They had, and soon Brenda and Gabriel were sitting at the table, fully enjoying a couple of slices of the Best Cherry Pie in Fifty States.

Once they'd both had a chance to savor the first couple of bites, Gabriel asked, "Do you think Flynn and Provenza got in all right?" The two lieutenants had called halfway through the alibi project, and had gotten stern instructions on what they should bring to wear. 'No Hawaiian shirts' had featured prominently in Brenda's instructions to Provenza. She'd also told them that while the FBI would eventually reimburse the hotel room, plane tickets, and meals, any gambling they did would be strictly on their own dime.

"I doubt they've landed yet," Brenda said. "But I'm sure they'll be fine. The important thing will be to keep Fritz from seeing them until they've done everything they can do."

"How do you think they got Pope to give them the time off?"

Brenda groaned. "I'd really rather not think about that, thank you."

He smirked and ate another bite of pie. "So what do you think of your first out-of-state trip?" Brenda asked.

Gabriel considered that for a moment as his lips worked over the tines of his plastic fork. "It's different," he finally said. "Pretty. I've never seen trees like this in real life. But, honestly? I already miss LA." He shivered. "For one thing, this place is cold."

"That's the humidity," Brenda said with a sigh. "The one thing I didn't miss from Atlanta. Well, that and the mosquitoes."

"We have mosquitoes in LA."

Brenda snorted. "You haven't seen mosquitoes until you've lived in the south. They grow to the size of quarters and move through the air in swarms."

"Really," Gabriel asked skeptically. "That sounds kind of dangerous."

"I usually got bitten often enough in the first week of mosquito season that my body stopped reacting to them for the rest of the summer."

"I didn't know you could do that."

"You can't in LA. And you should feel thankful for that."

"I'll try to remember that," Gabriel said with a smirk.

"You do that," Brenda answered. She pushed away her take-out box, now filled with nothing more than a few crumbs and a mostly-scraped away dab of cherry pie filling. "I'm beat," she said as she stretched.

"Me, too," Gabriel answered. "At least you can flop over onto the bed. I have to go back to my room."

"Your room is next door," Brenda said in amusement.

"Still too far away."

They stared at the bed for a moment, until the emotion in the air went from comfortable to anticipatory. Gabriel abruptly stood up. "Guess I should get myself to bed."

Brenda smiled up at him. "Good night, David."

"Good night, Brenda."

Brenda's smile grew a bit at that, and as she curled up under her blankets that night, she let the sweet memory of her name on his lips lull her to sleep.

ooo

The next day got off to a much smoother start, probably because both Brenda and Gabriel were finally fully up-to-date with the case file. They began with Deputy Andy, who had nothing new to share (except that he had been with Lucy, the sheriff's department receptionist who was also his girlfriend, the night that Laura died), then moved on to Sheriff Truman, whose lack of new information was far more disappointing. Though the interview did pick up a bit when Brenda mentioned the Packard Sawmill. "Josie Packard is the owner," Truman said, and once again his voice got softer as he said her name.

Brenda shook her head. "Are you and Mrs. Packard dating, or do you just have a crush on her?"

Truman surprised the heck out of her by suddenly laughing. "Is that something all of you FBI folks can do, or did we just get lucky?"

"Excuse me?" Brenda asked cautiously.

"First time Coop saw Josie and I together, he asked us how long we'd been dating. He said he knew because of our body language."

"Oh," Brenda said. She leaned forward a little and murmured, "In my case, I think it's less of an FBI thing and more of a woman thing."

Truman looked a little uncomfortable at the idea, so Brenda just shook her head and asked her last question, "Is Mrs. Packard the meeting you had that night? The one you couldn't give us details for?" Truman nodded sheepishly. "Thank you so much," Brenda said, though she certainly wished she could say something much less polite. "Now I'd like to see James Hurley. Could you move him to the interview room, please?"

"We don't really have an interview room," Truman said. "If you want, I can put him in the conference room. That's what Agent Cooper's been using."

"That'll be fine, thank you," Brenda said, quickly adding, "You do have a tape recorder, right?"

"Uh, sure," Truman answered, looking confused. Which undoubtedly meant the previous interviews hadn't been taped.

Well, that was one thing Brenda could fix -- informal interviews with the local law enforcement didn't need to be recorded, but when interviewing a juvenile charged with a serious crime, Brenda definitely wanted a tape for the court case. "Could you please get that recorder for me? With some blank tapes? And then bring James to the conference room? Thank you, thank you so much."

As soon as Truman was gone, Fritz asked, "Do you want me to do the eyebrow thing with Hurley?"

"Yes, please," Brenda said as she headed for the conference. "Do it with everyone else we talk to today, except Agent Cooper. Thank you."

"How many members do you think this secret society has?" Gabriel asked.

"In a town this size? Probably not too many. And I'm guessing all of the members are related by blood, marriage, or profession. Oh, heck," she added as she reached the conference room, only to see another doughnut buffet laid out.

Fritz grinned and reached for one with chocolate frosting and nuts.

"You know, I don't even like doughnuts," Gabriel said. "But they just look so good."

"I know," Brenda sighed. She moved around the table, keeping her distance from the treats, until she reached the gap between the doughnuts and the coffee. Positioning her purse so that it was square between her and temptation, she sat down. Gabriel immediately sat down beside her. "Actually, Sergeant, could you sit back just a bit? And try to look stern."

"O-kay," he said as he settled his chair back a few inches. "Can I ask why?"

"Judging from the fact that Mr. Hurley's address is the same as his uncle's, I'm guessing he hasn't had much of a maternal figure in his life." Brenda quickly buttoned up her jacket, and reached into her purse for a hair clip. "Might as well give him one, if just for a few minutes."

By the time James was escorted into the room, Brenda was prim and proper and flanked by two imposing looking men. Sheriff Truman sat James down with more gentleness than Brenda would have expected him to show to a suspected drug dealer, and nodded to Brenda before leaving.

"Hello, James," Brenda said warmly.

"Uh, hi," he answered, looking nervously at Fritz and Gabriel. His eyes locked over her right shoulder, which was where Fritz was standing. A moment later, he casually dragged his finger from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.

Interesting. Though that did explain why Truman was being so nice to the boy.

Brenda started the tape. "James, could you state your name for the record?"

James looked confused, but leaned forward a bit and said, "James Hurley, ma'am."

"That's perfect," Brenda said with a reassuring smile. "Thank you. Now, James, you were dating Laura Palmer, is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But everyone else in town thought that she was dating Bobby Briggs."

"That's cause everyone expected her to, but she didn't really like him. And Bobby had someone else on the side, too."

Brenda blinked. This was the first she'd ever heard of this. "Really? Do you know who?"

"No, ma'am, but he's been coming late to football practice for weeks, and he wasn't spending that time with Laura."

Very, very interesting. She'd have to look into that. But for now, she focused on the matter at hand. "James, can you tell me about the night that Laura died?"

He immediately launched into a story that sounded so rehearsed that she would have been suspicious if this were the day after the murder. Unfortunately, after a week it was likely he'd told this exact same story so many times that he couldn't help but sound tired of it. In any event, it was functionally the same as the story Agent Cooper had told: James had picked up Laura at 9:30. They'd driven around for a while, Laura told James she couldn't see him anymore, refused to explain why when he asked, then at around 12:30 she'd jumped off the bike at the light at Sparkwood and 21st and run off into the woods. That was the last he'd seen of her.

"And what did you do after that?" Brenda asked.

"Went to my uncle's place," James said. He suddenly seemed to find something very fascinating on the tabletop as he added, "My mom's out of town."

"And your uncle is Big Ed, right?"

"Right. He owns Big Ed's Gas Farm."

Brenda smiled and leaned forward a bit, as if ready to tell a confidence. "James, do you know Laura's cousin Maddie?"

The effect was dramatic: James's eyes went really wide, his face went white, and he sent a desperate look in Fritz's direction. "James," Brenda said, her voice stern. "James!" Slowly he turned back to look at her. Brenda reached out and touched his hand, and his eyes misted up. "James," she said gently. "I think you'd better tell me everything."

And what a story James had to tell. By the time he was finished, Brenda was struggling to conceal her disbelief, Gabriel had scooted back forward to the table so he could write more quickly, and James himself looked as beaten as a wrung-out washcloth. It took Brenda a moment to recover before she could say, "Okay, James, that was very good. Thank you. Can I just summarize what you told me, just to make sure I got everything right?"

James nodded wearily.

"Thank you." Brenda took a deep breath. "First, you are now dating Donna Hayward, but you only started dating after Laura's death." A nod. "You and Donna decided to secretly investigate Laura's death yourselves and in the course of your investigation, you found a series of tapes that Laura made for Dr. Jacoby." Another nod. "One tape was missing and you brought Maddie into your investigation to help distract Jacoby while you searched his office." James swallowed hard, but nodded again. "You dressed Maddie up in Laura's clothes and a blonde wig, and had her call Jacoby to convince him to leave his office to come meet her."

"She didn't give him her real location," James said quietly.

"Of course not," Brenda said gently. "But how did you convince him that she was really Laura?"

"We made a videotape of her holding today's paper. With the wig and all...she looked just like Laura. It was kind of scary."

"I can imagine." Brenda patted his hand again. "So, once Jacoby left to meet Maddie, you and Donna searched his office and found the missing tape and the other half of Laura's necklace hidden in a hollowed-out coconut. You took both of them with you and went back to pick up Maddie so you could go to Donna's house and listen to the tape."

James was definitely tearing up now and all he managed to do was nod.

"James," Brenda said, her voice soft and hypnotic. "What did the tape say?" He shook his head. "James. James, tell me about the tape."

Suddenly he took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was low and fast. "She said I was sweet, but dumb, and that she was tired of sweet. She said that she'd been sleeping with some guy who she thinks was trying to kill her and that she got off on it. She said he drove a red Cor-corvette." His voice stumbled over the last word and he buried his face in his hands and began to cry.

Brenda found herself swallowing back a lump in her throat, and she gently patted James on the back of the head. "Thank you, James," she said softly. "You did very well."

The door burst open and Sheriff Truman stormed in, looking like an angry papa bear. Brenda stopped the tape but kept patting James's head as she said, "Sheriff, I think James is ready to go back to his cell now."

Truman kept glaring at all of them, even as he leaned back out the door and called for Deputy Andy. As soon as Andy led James out of the room, Truman crossed his arms and growled, "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," Brenda said wearily. "Just got him to tell the truth."

Truman's eyes widened. "What truth?"

"You should probably listen to the tape," Brenda said. "It'd take too long to tell and, honestly, I doubt you'd believe me. I hardly believe it myself and I heard it straight from James's mouth."

Truman immediately reached for the recorder, but Brenda stopped him with a question: "Does anyone in Twin Peaks drive a red Corvette?"

"The only person I know who drives anything like that is Leo Johnson," Truman said.

"Of course," Brenda said with a sigh. "Sheriff, we're going to have to search Johnson's house."

"Well, actually, Agent Cooper and I were just about to head out there," Truman said. "Leo was shot in his house, so we don't need to wait for a warrant."

"Oh, bother," Brenda said, rubbing her eyes. Just one more thing she didn't have time for today. "Fritz, do you think you could go with them?"

"Sure. But what about the..." He rubbed his eyebrow.

"Don't worry about that, I think I have it covered. Thank you." Truman took the tape from the recorder and a second later he and Fritz headed out the door. Brenda called after them, "Thank you so much."

Truman popped his head in a second later. "By the way, you asked about any convicted criminals who've come into town in the last week? The only one we know of is Hank Jennings, Norma's husband."

"Norma?"

"She owns the Double R Cafe."

"And has anyone interviewed Mr. Jennings about the recent goings on in Twin Peaks?"

"No, ma'am." At least the sheriff had the grace to look embarrassed by that fact.

"Thank you, Sheriff Truman. We'll look into it."

As soon as he was gone, Brenda rubbed her sore eyes and sighed.

"You okay, Chief?" Gabriel asked as he closed his notebook.

"I'm fine, Sergeant, thank you. It's just...underneath the sweet exterior of this town lies a core as dank and rotten as the depths of hell."

"Amen," Gabriel said quietly.

With an effort, Brenda pulled herself together. "So what do you think Sergeant? Lunch at the Double R before or after the hospital?"

"I'm not really hungry at the moment, Chief," Gabriel said.

"I'm not particularly hungry either," she admitted as she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door. "The hospital it is."

They had a bit of a dilemma when they reached the hospital, as the sheriff's office was so shorthanded that a nurse had been deputized to guard Leo Johnson's door. At least Hawk was the man assigned to guard the door to the closed ward -- hopefully that meant the nurse wouldn't have much to do.

Unfortunately, that also meant that someone was going to have to take Hawk's place while he was interviewed, and the list of acceptable choices pretty much consisted of Gabriel. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked as Brenda shooed him to Hawk's chair.

"I'll be _fine_," she said for the third time. "I can take my own notes, you know. I didn't always have my own sergeant."

"Yes, but..." He glanced at Hawk and lowered his voice. "Do you really think you should be alone in this town? The people here are kind of crazy."

"I'm sure Deputy Hawk isn't one of those people. I'll be back soon." And, before he could protest again, she hurried Hawk down the hallway to an empty room.

This room, more than anything else Brenda had seen in Twin Peaks, emphasized just how small this town was. The walls were covered with cheap pine paneling, the lights overhead were flickering constantly, and the linoleum on the floor was peeling in the corners. _Pity Mr. Horne didn't bother to invest in the hospital,_ Brenda thought as she delicately perched herself on the side of the bed. "So, Mr. Hawk," she started with a smile.

"Just plain Hawk is fine, ma'am."

"Okay then, Hawk. I just have a few questions for you." As she spoke, she carefully ran her finger from her temple to her cheekbone. Hawk's hand flinched, but he didn't lift it from his side. Brenda decided to take some comfort from the fact that at least one of Twin Peak's deputies was savvier than a high school student.

She also decided to cut right to the chase. "How exactly did you find Jacques Renault's cabin?" Hawk opened his mouth. "And the word 'tracking' better not pass your lips."

The corner of his mouth quirked at that, and he suddenly decided to take a seat after all. "The National Forest Service owns most of the land around here," he said. "When the land was claimed by the government, all private property had to be registered to keep it from being taken. And, since then, any houses built in the National Forest have to get special permits. I just went through the records and checked all of the cabins till I found one with red curtains."

"Why red curtains?"

"Agent Cooper told us that was what we should look for. I think he got it from the ad in _Flesh World_."

"And the crime scene? How did you find the boxcar?"

Hawk shrugged. "The transient population knows it's there. I go by once a week or so to roust anyone who looks like they might cause problems."

Brenda shook her head in disbelief. "And why didn't you tell any of this to Agent Cooper?"

Hawk grinned. "He was getting a kick out of that whole 'Indian Tracker' shtick. I didn't want to disappoint him."

"That Indian Tracker shtick could get this case thrown out of court," Brenda said sternly.

"Don't worry, I've testified before," Hawk said. "I kept records of everything I did."

"I'll be looking at those records later," Brenda said. Hawk just shrugged again. "Now, about this secret society--"

Hawk suddenly tensed up until he looked like he was carved from granite. "What secret society?"

"And we were doing so well," Brenda sighed. "You know, the secret society that you, Agent Cooper, Sheriff Truman, Deputy Andy, James Hurley, and I suspect Big Ed, all belong to."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hawk said stonily.

Brenda frowned. She'd seen that expression before in other suspects and she knew she wasn't going to get anything more out of him. Unfortunately, he would probably tell the others that she'd asked about it, which meant she likely lost any chance she might have had to figure out exactly what this secret society did.

Damn, she hated when she miscalculated.

"Okay, Hawk, just one more question: where were you the night Laura Palmer died?"

Hawk frowned. "At home, with my wife. Am I a suspect?"

"No," Brenda said honestly. "We're just trying to figure out where everyone was that night. There are so many potential suspects and witnesses in this case that we've just started asking everyone where they were, just in case they might have seen something and not realized what it was."

"Oh," Hawk said.

"Do you have any questions for me? No? Well, then, I'll let you get back to your post." Brenda stood up and held out her hand. Hawk took it and shook it firmly. "Thank you," she said, and for once, she actually meant it.

"Learn anything useful?" Gabriel whispered as they entered the closed ward, leaving Hawk back in his chair.

"That the 'inherent tracking ability of this Land's noble natives' is a euphemism for slogging through government records."

"Shocking," Gabriel said dryly in his normal voice. "Okay, who do you want to tackle first?"

"Might as well see if Mr. Johnson's awake."

He wasn't, but Dr. Jacoby, Laura's psychologist, was. Unfortunately, Dr. Jacoby refused to accept that Laura really was dead, and thus refused to tell them anything useful. When pressed to provide an alibi for the night that she died, he pleaded a headache, closed his eyes, and refused to open them again.

"You ever have a day when you feel like nothing useful is being done?" Gabriel asked as they went across the hall to Shelly Johnson's room.

"I certainly do, Sergeant," Brenda said as she gently knocked on the door and opened it. Before the door swung all the way open, Brenda distinctly heard a small voice say, "Bobby?"

"Then again," Brenda murmured, turning on the tape recorder and putting it in her purse. Shelly wasn't really a suspect, so there was no need to make her aware of the fact that this conversation was going to be recorded. "Sergeant, I need you to stay out here. Make sure no one comes in until I leave."

Gabriel nodded and moved to stand directly in front of the door as Brenda let it swing shut behind her.

"Oh, sorry," the girl on the bed said. "I thought you were someone else."

"I'm guessing that someone is named Bobby?" Brenda asked with a smile.

The girl blushed and nodded. "But you can't tell anyone," she said quickly. "No one's supposed to know."

"And by 'no one', are you referring to your husband, Mrs. Johnson?"

The poor girl immediately froze, her pretty face filled with abject terror. "It's okay, Shelly," Brenda said quickly. "I won't tell him anything, I promise." She pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down close enough that she could gently rest her hand on Shelly's arm. "I know something about bad marriages and about men who seem like Prince Charming until they get that ring on your finger. I know that Leo Johnson is a bad man, and I will protect you from him. But to do that, I need you to tell me everything. Don't leave anything out, okay? If you do, I won't be able to help you."

Shelly's eyes dropped to her free hand, which was picking little fuzzballs off of her blanket. "Leo...he hits me," she whispered.

Brenda's heart ached. "Why didn't you tell someone about this? Your parents, maybe?"

"They were real mad when I dropped out of school to marry Leo. My mom says that I've made my bed and now I have to sleep in it."

Brenda saw red, and it was only with the greatest of efforts that she managed to keep her voice even as she asked, "Has Leo hurt you recently?" Shelly nodded. "Can you tell me when?"

"A few days ago." Brenda waited and after a moment Shelly sniffed and added, "He was mad at me because he couldn't find one of his shirts."

This was where all of that time spent reading that case file paid off, because Brenda could clearly remember one of Leo Johnson's shirts showing up in Jacques Renault's apartment. "Could you describe the shirt?"

Shelly looked confused, but said, "Yeah, it was denim. Long-sleeved."

Brenda gave her a piercing stare. "Anything else?"

It took less than five seconds for Shelly to break. "There was blood on it. A lot of blood."

Definitely the one from the file, though that didn't explain how it got from Leo Johnson's house to Jacques Renault's apartment. "What happened to the shirt, Shelly?"

She lasted two seconds this time. Maybe. "I gave it to Bobby."

"Bobby Briggs?"

Shelly nodded.

"How long have you and Bobby been seeing each other?"

"A few months now. He said he would protect me from Leo."

"But I'm guessing that wasn't the case."

Shelly shook her head.

"Shelly, what were you doing at the mill when it burned?"

The girl's eyes welled up and she had to clear her throat before she could speak. "Leo took me there."

Brenda kept her voice soft as she asked, "Why did he do that?"

"He found out about me and Bobby and he...he said that an unfaithful wife didn't deserve to live." She sniffed, but kept on going, her voice getting louder and louder with each word. "He tied me up to a post and poured gasoline all around and then he left. He _left_! And then the fire started and I knew I was going to _die_ and--"

Shelly broke down into tears at this point, and Brenda pulled her into an embrace. "It's okay," Brenda said softly. "It's okay. You're safe here. He can't hurt you anymore."

Shelly sobbed hysterically for several minutes until Brenda's soothing litany of 'it's all right, he can't hurt you anymore' finally broke through. Once she calmed down and sat back in the bed, Brenda handed her a tissue which Shelly used to wipe her red eyes and blotchy face before blowing her nose. "I'm so sorry to ask this of you, but I do have a few more questions," Brenda said gently. "Would you like to answer them now, or would you rather I came back later?"

"If I answer your questions, will you let Bobby in to see me?" Shelly asked, her voice still watery.

"Absolutely," Brenda promised.

"Then I'll answer your questions now."

"Thank you, Shelly." Brenda handed over another tissue before asking, "Can you tell me how you got out of the fire?"

"Catherine was there, Catherine Martell. She cut me down."

Brenda frowned, mentally going through the case file so far. Catherine Martell was the sister-in-law of the owner of the saw mill, Josie Packard. Word around town was that Catherine was furious that her brother had left the mill to Josie rather than her. "Did Mrs. Martell say why she was there?" Shelly shook her head and dabbed at her eyes again with the tissue. "Okay, okay, that's fine. Just a couple more questions, okay?" Shelly nodded. "First, have you ever heard the name Jacques Renault?"

Shelly frowned. "Uh-uh. Am I supposed to?"

"No, not at all," Brenda said. "I just needed to check. Now then, do you have any idea where Leo might have been the night Laura died?"

"He was supposed to be driving back from Butte," Shelly said. "But he got home too early the next day, so I don't know."

"Okay, thank you, Shelly. You've done really well."

"And Bobby?"

"I'll tell Deputy Hawk that Bobby should be allowed in when he comes to visit you."

Shelly smiled, making her look even younger than her seventeen years. "Thanks, Mrs.-- I don't know your name."

"Brenda Leigh Johnson," Brenda said, picking up her purse. "And you're very welcome. Thank you. Thank you so much."

And with that, she made her escape.

The door was open a crack when she stepped outside, which was definitely not how she left it, but looking at the fury on David's face she couldn't blame him. Frankly, she'd just be happy to not have to repeat the entire conversation. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it," Gabriel gritted out. "Will it be enough to keep Leo Johnson from getting bail?"

"Maybe. It depends on the judge and on how believable he finds her testimony." She glanced at Leo Johnson's door as they passed it. "With any luck, we'll never have to find out."

On the way out, Brenda asked Deputy Hawk to call her if Bobby showed up for a visit with Shelly and to delay the boy until she could get there. She wanted to be sure to get to him before he found out exactly how much Shelly had revealed.

As they turned the corner towards the stairway, they bumped into a thin, nervous-looking girl with dark, curly hair. "I'm sorry," Brenda said, but she was speaking to the girl's back, as the nervous teenager was already running away. Brenda and Gabriel exchanged a glance and followed at a slightly more sedate pace.

They heard the arguing from half a hallway away. "But my dad works here!"

"Sorry, Donna," Hawk's voice said. "No visitors."

Brenda picked up the pace. "Donna?" she said, as soon as the girl and the deputy were in sight. "Donna Hayward?"

The girl's eyes widened and she looked up and down the hall as if trying to find an escape route. Brenda barely managed not to roll her eyes in return. It'd been a long, emotionally exhausting morning, and she really didn't have the time or energy to cater to someone who'd clearly read too many Nancy Drew novels in her spare time. "I'll take that as a yes," she said dryly. "I'm Brenda Leigh Johnson, with the FBI. I have a few questions for you." Donna still looked like she was going to start running. "Now!" Brenda snapped.

That did it. Donna lowered her head and followed as Brenda led her back to the empty room. This time Gabriel followed, though he stayed unobtrusively in the background as Brenda started the questioning. "For the record, you are Donna Hayward, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Donna said. Apparently now that she'd given up on the idea of running, she was going to attempt to be polite.

Two could play that game. "Thank you," Brenda said with a small smile. "Now, can you tell me who you were planning on visiting?"

Donna looked even more nervous than before as she answered, "Shelly."

"You mean Shelly Johnson?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, you and Shelly are friends?"

"Well, not really," Donna admitted, looking relieved that Brenda was accepting what was clearly a line of utter baloney. "But we knew each other at school, and when I heard about the fire..."

"So you weren't planning on visiting Dr. Jacoby while you were there." Cue the panicked look. Brenda didn't know whether to laugh or to smack some sense into this girl. She settled on brutal honesty. "I talked to James earlier," she said. "I know everything. Now I know you think you're protecting Laura's memory by withholding this information, but all you are doing is preventing us from finding her killer."

Donna's eyes glistened, but she lifted her chin. Brenda held back a sigh. "That's okay, I understand. It's okay that you don't love her anymore, now that you've realized that she wasn't perfect."

That did it. Donna snapped, "I _do_ love her! I'll always love her!" She sniffled. "James and I were the only ones who did."

Ah, teenagers. Brenda kept her smile off her face; Gabriel, who was standing behind Donna, didn't bother with such restraint. "What about her parents?" Brenda asked innocently.

Donna shrugged. "They didn't really know her. She never told them what was really going on."

"You mean the drugs?" Brenda asked softly.

Donna nodded.

"And the sex?"

Donna nodded again.

"And James?" Another nod. Brenda leaned in more closely. "What else didn't they know about, Donna? What other secrets was Laura hiding?"

Donna didn't answer for a second, but Brenda kept silent and eventually she cracked. "Bob. They didn't know about Bob."

Brenda blinked. "Bob? Do you mean Bobby Briggs?"

"No," Donna said, her voice cracking on the word. "Bob."

"Who is Bob?"

"I don't know," Donna said. "She never really talked about him. But I heard her talking in her sleep once when we were camping and when I asked her about it she stopped talking to me for a week."

Brenda shook her head. This case was just getting more and more confusing by the minute. "So you never met this Bob?"

"I don't think so," Donna said, wiping her eyes.

"And when did this conversation about Bob take place?"

"A few years ago."

"Oh," Brenda said, even more non-plussed. Maybe this was another attempt at distraction. Certainly a random name from a few years back wasn't likely to have much to do with this case.

With that in mind, Brenda walked Donna through the entire story of her and James breaking into Dr. Jacoby's office. Unfortunately, Donna revealed even less than James had and in the end Brenda gave up with a sigh. Maybe the girl was being obtuse, but Brenda was starting to suspect that she just didn't know anything so, with a stern warning to keep her away from the hospital, Brenda let her go.

"At least that's one less interview to do later," Gabriel said in an obvious attempt to cheer Brenda up.

Brenda stared at him balefully and headed for the elevators.

Once they reached the outside, Brenda lifted her face to the overcast skies and let the wind wash over her. Gabriel was quiet for several minutes, for which she was grateful, but eventually he asked, "Where to now, Chief?"

She sighed. "Who's left on our list?"

Gabriel pulled out his notebook. "Bobby Briggs, Hank Jennings the ex-con, and Agent Cooper."

Brenda glanced at her watch. Two o'clock. "Well, Bobby's probably still at school unless he's also skipped out to visit the hospital. And I need to take a break before I tackle Mr. Jennings. Let's go back to the hotel, get some room service, see what we've got so far today, and check to see if I have any messages."

Gabriel smirked at that last one. "Yes, ma'am."

As Gabriel drove them to the hotel, Brenda remembered that Fritz was still with the others, searching Leo Johnson's house. Fortunately, the sheriff had given them a radio that morning so that they wouldn't have to keep locating pay phones. If only she could find it in this darn purse.

A quick check-in with Fritz revealed that they had found a new pair of boots and a hell of a lot of cocaine hidden under a board on Johnson's deck. There was also a coat that reeked of gasoline. Brenda grinned as she put the radio away. "At this rate, Shelly's not going to have to worry about Leo for a long, long time."

"If we can get attempted murder charges for Shelly, it'll be life," Gabriel pointed out.

"Definitely something to aim for," Brenda said.

Gabriel nodded. "Hey, Chief? You know that list of motives we worked on last night?"

"Yes?"

"I think maybe we should have been working on a list of who was sleeping with who instead."

Brenda laughed. "You're probably right. Let's see, we have Laura, who was officially dating Bobby, secretly dating James, having sex with Leo -- possibly in exchange for money or drugs -- and prostituting herself on the side for Renault. Then you have Shelly, who is married to Leo, but having an affair with Bobby."

"Don't forget Laura's dad, who's having an affair, and James, who was dating Laura, but the day after she died, hooked up with Donna."

"Laura's best friend," Brenda said and suddenly all the humor drained out of the atmosphere.

After a few minutes of silence, Gabriel asked, "What do you make of Bobby? Do you think he planted that shirt in Jacques Renault's apartment?"

"Definitely, and he probably had something to do with the drugs found in James's motorcycle, because in both cases there was an anonymous tip telling the police where to look. What I want to know is, how did Bobby know about Jacques Renault, and how did he know that Jacques and Leo knew each other?"

"Maybe Bobby was the one to get Laura into prostitution?"

"Maybe," Brenda said thoughtfully. "Or maybe, if Leo was helping Jacques with his pimping, Jacques was helping Leo with his drugs."

"So maybe Bobby was the one who is dealing drugs, not James."

"Exactly."

"But why frame James? We wouldn't suspect Bobby of anything if he weren't going around framing people."

Brenda smiled without humor. "Bobby's a teenage boy and the star of his football team, which means he's not very good at thinking about the future and he's used to getting his own way. If he did frame James, it's probably because Laura was dating James behind Bobby's back."

"But Bobby's seeing Shelly!"

Brenda's smile grew a little more authentic. "You were a teenage boy once, David. Did you always consider all possible sides and consequences before doing something rash?"

Gabriel scowled. "Point taken."

Suddenly, Brenda swore and Gabriel turned to look at her with wide eyes. "Chief?"

Brenda shook her head. "I forgot to ask James if he had sex with Laura the night she died."

"You think he might be the third man?"

"I think that there might not be a third man. Leo Johnson was the last one to see Laura alive. Statistically, the last person to see a victim alive is usually the one who killed her."

Gabriel chuckled. "And I remember you complaining on the plane about how little evidence there was against Leo."

"I'm starting to see why everyone's so keen to find him guilty of murder," Brenda said dryly. Then something occurred to her and she bolted upright in her seat. "Wait, you were _awake_ when Fritz and I were talking?"

Gabriel looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh my God," Brenda said. "You heard what he said about Chief Pope."

"Hey, that is none of my business," Gabriel said firmly. "As far as I'm concerned, I didn't hear anything."

"Oh!" Brenda's brow crinkled and her lips pressed together tightly in a determined line as she faced forward to watch the scenery through the windshield and try to forget this whole conversation ever happened.

ooo

By the time they reached the hotel, Brenda had recovered enough composure to hand over her key to Gabriel so he could order room service while she checked the front desk for messages. Disappointingly, there were none, which Brenda found rather disturbing. What could have happened to Provenza and Flynn?

Intent on making a very long phone call to LA for updates and hopefully a report on her two errant lieutenants, Brenda picked the stairs over the elevator and hurried to her room. Since she didn't have a key, she had to knock and wait till Gabriel let her in. "Any word?" he asked.

"Not a one," Brenda said, already halfway to the phone.

She had just started dialing when there came a knock at the door. "Wow, that was fast," Gabriel said. "It must be a really slow time in the kitchen."

He pulled out his wallet and opened the door. Unfortunately, room service was not on the other side. Instead there were two middle-aged men wearing jeans and tee-shirts. Brenda groaned and put down the phone. "What part of the word 'discretion' did you not understand?" she hissed as she stalked over to the new arrivals.

"That it's the better part of valor?" Provenza offered.

Flynn rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Chief. We're in the room across the hall and we made sure the corridor was clear before coming over."

"And whose idea was _that_?"

"Tao's," Provenza said. "He knows how fast Flynn and I type, and said we'd spend all day just checking in if we had to do it by e-mail. So he called the hotel, pretended to be a florist or something, and found out what room you were in and did some of his magic to figure out what room we needed to get."

"Or you know, he just looked up the blueprints," Flynn said dryly. "Then Provenza came up with some sob story about how he and his third wife honeymooned here, and that he and I were here to replace that memory with something better."

Gabriel snickered and Brenda struggled to control a smile.

"Like _fishing_," Flynn snapped. "Or, you know, a trip across the border, so we already found out where we can rent a boat for tonight."

"Excellent work, gentlemen," Brenda said. "Now, if you'll just make your way across the hall before room service gets here--"

"Perfect, I'm starved," Provenza said.

"Then you should probably order room service of your own, now--" There was a knock at the door. "Oh _bother_. Okay, you two, into the bathroom."

"Chiiief," Flynn whined.

"No! Don't say anything. Just get into the bathroom."

The two lieutenants sulked and dragged their feet, but they did eventually end up in the bathroom. As soon as the coast was clear, Gabriel opened the door and smiled at the absolutely ancient old man on the other side. He was a hundred years old if he was a day. "Room service," he creaked out, the words coming slowly as if his body was too worn down to push dialogue out at a normal speed.

"Right in here, thank you," Gabriel said. He stepped back to let the old man in.

The old man took a sloooow step. Then another sloooow step. Brenda whimpered under her breath.

A noise came from the bathroom.

Brenda and Gabriel exchanged a horrified look, but the waiter didn't seem to notice.

Another noise came from the bathroom.

"Excuse me," Brenda said with a faked laugh. "I think I need to...to powder my nose." Skipping around the old man, she scurried into the bathroom and just barely managed to not slam the door. "What are you doing in here?" she hissed at Flynn and Provenza, who were frozen in the act of poking through her toiletries.

"Noth--" Flynn started in his normal tone of voice until Brenda 'shush-ed' him with both her voice and flailing hand gestures. "Nothing, Chief," he whispered. "Just wondering where all of Gabriel's stuff was."

Brenda narrowed her eyes. "Next door, I presume, along with his clothing and his bed."

"Hey, why do you and Gabriel get separate rooms when Flynn and I have to share?"

"Because the FBI knew in advance they were paying for Sergeant Gabriel and me. You two will be something of a surprise."

"Which is why we had to use vacation time to come here?" Flynn asked.

Brenda winced. "I'll see if I can't cover most of that with comp time."

Before Flynn could complain some more, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Coast's clear," Gabriel called.

"Oh thank goodness," Brenda breathed, hastily making her way out into the main room. The bathroom wasn't too bad for one, but it was seriously cramped with three.

Once they were all in the bedroom, Brenda said, "Okay, there are a few things I need you to look for when--" She was interrupted by another knock on the door.

"Brenda? It's Fritz."

Brenda swore under his breath. "Back to the bathroom," she hissed. "And don't touch _anything_."

She waited until the bathroom door was closed before opening the main door. "Hey, Fritz," she said in her best casual 'no one at all is hiding in the bathroom, why do you ask?' voice. "We were just about to have lunch. Want some?"

Through the bathroom door, she heard just the faintest whisper of a snort.

"I couldn't eat another bite," Fritz said. "Lucy brought doughnuts. And you know what? I think I'm actually starting to get sick of them. Or maybe just sick in general; my stomach's churning. I just wanted to check in before I went to my room to lie down for a bit."

"Oh, well, we do have some news, but nothing that can't wait until you're feeling better. Maybe we could catch up over dinner?"

"That sounds great, Brenda, thanks." And with that he left, thus ending their most civilized conversation since they broke up.

Brenda wrenched open the bathroom door where, once again, she found Flynn and Provenza poking through her toiletries. "You sure have a lot of stuff for your hair," Flynn said, holding a can of hairspray in one hand and mousse in the other.

"Put that down," Brenda hissed, "and go back to your room."

"But I thought you were going to prep us for tonight," Flynn protested.

Brenda shook her head. "I just realized that I don't yet have Agent Cooper's report on his visit to the casino and there's no point in prepping without it. Once I have that, I'll come to your room. Less chance of Fritz realizing what's going on that way."

Provenza looked back to where Gabriel was moving files on the table and replacing them with covered dishes. "But--"

"Out!"

Heads down, feet shuffling, they went out the door. "I swear, those two are like children. But more frustrating," Brenda huffed as she went over to the table. She blinked. Gabriel had ordered roasted chicken and whipped potatoes with side salads and whole wheat bread. "This looks great," she said as she sat down. When left to his own devices, Fritz had usually ordered a salad for her and a steak for himself.

"The menu's pretty good, maybe because the chef also cooks Mr. Horne's food."

Brenda was too busy enjoying her food to answer. It had been a really long time since breakfast.

Once their initial hunger was slaked, Gabriel asked, "So what did we learn today? Other than that Leo Johnson is scum, which I doubt would be a surprise to anyone in this town."

"Not much," Brenda admitted. "At least not much that's useful. Though we did find out that James is part of a secret society that includes every cop in town, so he'll probably be open to giving us a DNA sample."

"Do you really think he and Laura had sex that night?" Gabriel asked dubiously. "I mean, she was breaking up with him."

"I know," Brenda sighed. "But some teenagers try and soften the blow with goodbye sex."

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up and Brenda could see him wanting to ask, but this wasn't a nighttime confidence over shared pizza or pie. They were still working and David was enough of a professional to respect that.

If only Brenda could be so confident about herself.

"Sergeant, I think I'm going to have you and Fritz interview Mr. and Mrs. Jennings tonight to see if Mr. Jennings has gotten up to anything since he got out of jail. We'll save Bobby Briggs for tomorrow."

"Uh, okay," Gabriel said, clearly debating within himself whether or not he should ask.

"I'm going to be spending the afternoon with Agent Cooper," Brenda explained. "Plus, this way I can ensure that Fritz is out of the hotel when I brief Flynn and Provenza."

Gabriel's face cleared. "That makes sense." He smirked. "And it'll give Agent Howard and I a chance to bond."

Brenda shuddered.


	3. Chapter 3

Brenda walked Gabriel up to Fritz's room and left them with instructions to interview Hank and Norma, get a DNA sample from James, get samples from the bloody towel (and bloody shirt and note written in blood), and to send everything over to Tao. She waited until they were on their way before knocking on Agent Cooper's door.

A second later, the door opened and a lovely teenager with black hair, bright blue eyes, and a beauty mark at the corner of her left eye came out. The girl looked Brenda over, sneered, and sashayed down the hallway.

Brenda watched her go, then turned back to Agent Cooper, who was standing in his doorway looking sheepish. "She's been giving me information," he said. "Nothing else."

Brenda held up her hands. "You don't answer to me. But let me warn you: girls that age know just enough about seduction to be dangerous."

Cooper winced and nodded. "Are you ready to discuss my interviews?"

"If you are." She smiled, as the entire conversation could use some softening.

"Come on in," he offered and she did.

Unlike Brenda's own room, Cooper kept his space spotlessly neat. Other than a large stack of paper on the table, there wasn't a personal object in sight. She didn't even see a bloodstain, though she knew Cooper had been shot in his own room. "Have you moved rooms since yesterday?" she asked.

"No," he answered calmly.

Brenda couldn't think of a polite way to ask where a man's bloodstain was, so she settled for, "How are your wounds? Are you in much pain?"

"Pain is just a bodily impulse that can be overridden by strength of will," Cooper said. He suddenly smiled brightly. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," Brenda said, sitting down at the table. She pulled out her glasses and peered at the stack of paper. "Are these the interviews?" Cooper nodded. She pulled the top sheet off of the stack and began reading it. After a couple of lines, she glanced at Cooper over the top of her glasses.

"These are transcripts," she said.

"I record all of my interviews and send the tapes to my assistant, Diane," Cooper said. "Yesterday I asked her to overnight copies of everything she had."

"Oh thank goodness," Brenda said. Off Cooper's confused look, she explained, "Judging from Sheriff Truman's expression when I asked for a tape recorder, I was afraid that none of the other interviews had been taped."

"Harry's a good man, but he doesn't have much experience with cases on the federal level," Cooper said. "He's learning fast, though."

"I'm sure he is," Brenda said with a smile. She took in the size of the stack of papers before her and asked, "Do you mind if I take these with me? It'll be a while before I get through all of them."

"No problem at all," Cooper said with a smile.

"Thank you so much." She pulled the stack into her lap before she thought to ask. "Does this include the report on your trip to One Eyed Jacks?"

"I'm afraid not, as One Eyed Jacks is outside the Bureau's jurisdiction," Agent Cooper said. "I could give you a report now, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Brenda said, pulling out a notebook. She'd rather have recorded the conversation, but Canada was well outside her jurisdiction as well. "First, can you tell me why you went to One Eyed Jacks?"

"Jacques Renault had not been seen at his apartment or at his job in Twin Peaks in several days. We knew that he occasionally worked as a dealer at One Eyed Jacks and we'd hoped that he would come to work at Jacks that night where I planned to convince him to return to the United States so he could be arrested."

"And why were you so interested in Jacques Renault?" Brenda knew the answer to this one already, but it was always a good idea to get an interviewee comfortable with answering questions before getting down to the nitty-gritty. If nothing else, it gave her a baseline of behavior for when a person was telling the truth. For a lot of people, looking a person in the eye was actually a sign of lying.

"Laura Palmer had a piece of a Jacks chip in her stomach when she died. We also had received an anonymous tip that indicated that Jacques Renault may have known Laura. A search of his apartment turned up a bloody shirt and the copy of _Flesh World_ that had Laura's ad. Taking all of that into account, along with the fact that Jacques hadn't been seen since Laura's death, we considered him a person of significant interest."

"Okay, that's good. Now tell me about how the operation ran."

"I met with Sheriff Truman, Deputy Andy, Deputy Hawk, Lucy, and Big Ed Hurley at approximately 9:45 p.m. at the Twin Peaks Police station. I wore a black tuxedo with a white shirt, black bow tie, and gold cufflinks and Deputy Hawk ran a wire down my left arm. Big Ed wore dark grey slacks with a black sports coat, red shirt, and string tie and I gave him a curly wig and brown moustache for a disguise. While he applied those, I tested the wire.

"At approximately 10:15 p.m., we heard a gunshot. We ran to the conference room where we found that Waldo the bird had been shot. We listened to the tape recording made of Waldo's voice before he died; he was definitely in a room with Laura the night she was killed. Thanks to Waldo's mimicry skills, we know that Leo was with Laura in that room and that someone was hurting her.

"Leaving Lucy and Andy to respectfully handle the remains of Waldo, Ed and I returned to the dressing room where we completed our preparations."

Brenda wrote as quickly as she could, awed and amazed by the level of Agent Cooper's memory recall. He described how they got a boat to get across the river to Jacks (apparently an enterprising entrepreneur had set up a boat rental shop that only ran at night), what they saw when they entered the establishment (a pool hall filled with men in suit and tie and women wearing corsets and not much else), how they got to the casino (a woman named Blackie pointed them in the right direction), and a brief description of the casino (most importantly, there were stairs that led to who knows where -- Brenda figured that was the brothel).

He also described how he bribed Jacques with the promise of a job that paid ten thousand dollars to get him to go back to the United States, where Jacques was arrested (though not before being shot by Deputy Andy, to the surprise of all).

"And then I went back to my room," Agent Cooper said. "I ordered some warm milk and began a message to Diane when person or persons unknown knocked on my door. The moment I opened the door and before I could look up, the perpetrator shot me three times. Unfortunately, I had just lifted my vest to try and remove a wood tick, which meant that one of the bullets hit me in the torso."

"And that brings me up to date," Brenda said as brightly as she could, considering her hand was cramping and her back spasming due to having been hunched over her notebook for -- she glanced at her watch -- over an hour. "That was very thorough, thank you Agent Cooper."

"Always glad to help a fellow agent," Cooper said with a smile. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Oh, no, not right now," Brenda said quickly. She was already running much later than she'd planned and she knew Gabriel couldn't keep Fritz occupied forever. "I'll just take these files and get back to you once I've had a chance to read them, all right?"

Cooper gave her a thumbs up. Brenda hesitated, and settled on a smile and a nod in return. Then she made her escape.

She stopped in her room just long enough to dump her purse and the pile of interviews that Cooper had given her. With a quick glance up and down the hallway to be sure it was empty, Brenda crossed over to the door opposite her own and knocked.

"Where have you been?" Provenza asked as he opened the door for her. "It's nearly five."

"I'm sorry," she said, walking across the room and wearily dropping into one of the room's chairs. There were two, she noted, along with two beds, for which she trusted Flynn and Provenza were profoundly grateful. "Agent Cooper just gave me the most detailed statement I've ever received in my entire life. It took forever."

"Well," Flynn asked. "Did you learn anything useful?"

With an effort, Brenda forced herself to sit upright. Pulling out her notebook, she said, "Okay, you won't be able to go over the border until nightfall, because the guy who rents the boats doesn't open till nine. Here's a map to the boat rental place." She handed over the map Cooper had drawn for her. It was so precise it could have been printed from a computer. "When you rent the boat, the rental guy will ask you where you're headed. Tell him One Eyed Jacks. He'll give you directions.

"The front room to the casino is actually a pool hall. Stand near the door and a woman named Blackie should come and get you. She'll ask you some questions, so be ready. When she asks what you're interested in, I suggest one of you try the casino, the other the brothel."

"Dibs on the hookers!" Provenza said immediately.

Flynn just shrugged. "It's not like you can have sex with them anyway. I'd much rather win a few bucks by gambling."

Brenda narrowed her eyes at Provenza. "Just to make this perfectly clear, you will _not_ have sex with a prostitute, is that clear?"

"Oh, don't worry, Chief. I've got my escape plan all worked out already." Provenza grinned.

"Really? I'd love to hear it."

Provenza's grin disappeared while Flynn smirked around his toothpick. "It's, uh, top secret, Chief."

"Top secret?" Brenda repeated with raised eyebrows.

"That means it's embarrassing," Flynn interjected, sounding smug.

"But it will work, I promise," Provenza said.

Brenda nodded doubtfully. To Flynn, she added, "And remember that any gambling losses are on you."

"Don't worry, Chief, I know what I'm doing," Flynn said.

"Okay," Brenda said, even more doubtfully.

"So what do you want us to be looking for?" Provenza asked.

Brenda sighed; at some point she was just going to have to trust them. "Well, first things first: see if any of the girls are underage, if they knew Laura Palmer or Ronette Pulaski, and make sure they're all there of their own free will. Also find out how they're recruited, if you can. Flynn, I'll want you to keep an eye out for any evidence of drugs. There's also a good chance that the casino is laundering money; I know that's harder to identify, but keep an eye out for anyone bringing in large amounts of cash and losing it very quickly." She took a deep breath. "Any questions?"

"How's the rest of the case going?" Flynn asked.

"Not well," Brenda admitted. "Everyone in town who is acting suspiciously seems to be involved in one crime or another; unfortunately none of those crimes are tied to Laura's death. Even the DNA tests aren't going to be much help unless we find a viable suspect to compare the results to."

"So how is our little trip to the casino going to help?" Provenza asked.

"I don't know yet," Brenda said. "But I do know that Laura was taking drugs and involved in prostitution, and that one or both of those might be connected to One Eyed Jacks. I'm just not sure how."

Provenza and Flynn both looked surprisingly sympathetic. Then again, they knew how frustrating it was to have an ugly case with no evidence. Or, nearly as bad, too much evidence. "Is there anything else we can do while we're here, Chief?" Flynn asked. "It's getting kind of boring being cooped up in this room all day."

Brenda considered that. On the one hand, it was a waste of two perfectly good detectives to have them sitting in a hotel room. On the other hand, she didn't want to risk Fritz seeing them. "Well, once Agent Howard and Gabriel return for the night, you can go to the local diner and keep your ears open for anything interesting. As for tomorrow..." Slowly she smiled. "Do ya'll have any experience with fingerprinting?"

ooo

Fritz and Gabriel returned with news that something very fishy was going on at the Double R Cafe. "Mr. Jennings said he was home all night the night the mill burned, but Mrs. Jennings said he didn't come home until after one," Gabriel explained.

"Very suspicious," Brenda agreed. "Any idea what he might've been up to?"

"No idea," Fritz said. "But a lot of crime happened that night."

"That it did," Brenda sighed.

"Oh," Gabriel said. "And we saw the Log Lady."

"Really? What does she look like?"

"Like a lady carrying a log," Gabriel said. "And woe be it the man who besmirches the log." Brenda started to smile until Gabriel added, "See, you think I'm kidding, don't you?"

"Aren't you?"

"Apparently Cooper wasn't respectful enough of the log early on in the investigation," Fritz said dryly. "So she gave him a stern talking to right there in the diner. Folks are still talking about it."

Brenda couldn't quite hide a smirk.

"How about you?" Fritz asked. "Any word from your team?"

"Excuse me?" Brenda said innocently.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Fritz said irritably. "I know you're having them do more than run inadmissible DNA tests. As long as the Bureau doesn't have to pay for any of it, I'm not going to complain."

"Except for the DNA tests," Brenda said quickly. "You said you'd pay for those."

"Actually, I was thinking of billing Twin Peaks for them. Considering how many cases we're solving for them, it's the least they can do." Fritz scowled. "Not to mention the fact that they recruited one of our agents into their secret society."

"I completely agree," Brenda said and hurried on before the question of money could be discussed in more detail. "Unfortunately, there isn't much to report from LA. Tao says that the DNA results will be back tomorrow or the day after and that there wasn't anything significant in the autopsy report we haven't already heard about. Except that with the amount of drugs and alcohol in her system, Laura would have been very compliant, possibly unconscious for some or all of the night."

"That's something, at least," Gabriel said.

Brenda nodded. Laura Palmer's death was a tragedy, but there was some comfort in the thought that she might not have been conscious for what happened to her at the end. "Daniels got warrants for Palmer and Horne's financial records, but the bank is dragging its feet. She hopes to have the records by the end of the day today, which means we might have more information by tomorrow.

"Finally, Sanchez went through the records that _Flesh World_ sent him. There are over thirty women who used the same PO box as Laura and Ronette, but only a few used the box at the same time. It sounds like the girls would work for a year or two and then move on to something else."

"I don't know about you, but from what I've heard about Leo Johnson, he wouldn't just let someone leave his 'employ'," Gabriel said.

"I agree," Brenda said. "Which means that the prostitution ring was probably run by Jacques Renault."

"So, so far we have Leo Johnson running drugs and burning down the sawmill _and_ we have Jacques Renault running a prostitution ring," Fritz said.

"Plus you have Bobby Briggs framing people for crimes and possibly dealing drugs for Leo," Gabriel added.

"Not to mention, you have Benjamin Horne making development deals for land he doesn't own, and a casino-slash-brothel just north of the border that may or may not be laundering money or providing girls for all of the above." Brenda took a deep breath. "Suddenly LA doesn't look so bad."

After that depressing pronouncement, Brenda was grateful when Fritz asked, "Did you have a chance to talk to Cooper?"

"Absolutely," Brenda sighed, nodding at the mountain of paper sitting on the table. "I've been reading through these for an hour now."

"Anything useful?"

"Not so far," Brenda sighed. "We've actually gotten quite a bit more information out of the interviews we've had than Agent Cooper did. He's interviewed a few more people than we have, though. Bobby Briggs reads like a psychopath in training. And I have to say that Donna Hayward apparently lied her way through the entire interview until confronted with videotaped evidence that refuted her statement. Plus, I still have no idea where Leland Palmer was the night Laura died. Though if we don't find evidence of a mistress, I'm heavily leaning towards One Eyed Jacks." She leaned back to look up at Fritz. "How's your stomach?"

"Still a little queasy," he said. "I definitely ate a bad doughnut."

Brenda had never heard of a bad doughnut before, but anything seemed possible in Twin Peaks. "Why don't you call it a night? D- Sergeant Gabriel and I can finish up here."

"Are you sure?" Fritz asked.

"Absolutely," Brenda said.

"Okay, thanks, I think I will." As Fritz left, Brenda saw him bringing up his arm to cradle his stomach.

"Bad doughnut?" Gabriel whispered.

"My money's on too much sugar," Brenda answered, equally softly.

They shared a small smile before Brenda hefted the stack of interview notes onto her lap. "Come on," she said with a sigh. "I want to get through these before Flynn and Provenza get back."

"How you think they're doing, anyway?"

"Honestly, Sergeant? I'm trying not to think about it."

ooo

"We're lost."

"We're not lost," Provenza snapped.

"We're lost," Flynn said flatly. "And I don't even know how you managed it, seeing as the directions were a straight line."

"How _I_ managed it? You're the one with the directions, pal. I'm just the driver. All I do is turn where you tell me to."

"What turning? The directions are to go in a straight line -- there shouldn't be any turning!"

"Yeah, well, if a certain _navigator_ -- hey, do you see that?"

"What?"

"That light, right up there."

Flynn turned to look in the direction Provenza was pointing. "Huh. What do you think it is?"

Provenza offered up his best shit-eating grin. "Off hand, I'd say it's a casino."

As they got closer, the mysterious light coalesced into a neon sign of a playing card, specifically a jack. "See," Provenza said. "I told you I'd get us here."

Flynn just rolled his eyes.

A valet, red jacket and all, took their boat keys and they made their way up to the large stone building standing just a couple of hundred feet away from the river. Provenza could just see a bit of a parking lot on the other side of the building, which meant at least a few people took a more conventional means of transport to get to the casino. Which raised the question of why a boat was needed at all -- unless, of course, you wanted a cover for smuggling drugs.

Provenza shelved that question for later as they entered the building to find themselves in a bizarre mix of pool hall, hunting lodge, and cabaret. Men wearing tuxedos and drinking martinis casually stood among pristine pool tables and chatted, not seeming to notice the stone walls and animal heads that surrounded them. They also appeared remarkably unaffected by the handful of young ladies that wandered around carrying drink trays. The ladies were wearing corsets, thigh-high stockings, and stilettos and every one of their costumes had some sort of playing card theme.

"I feel like I'm in a James Bond movie," Flynn muttered.

Provenza had to agree, especially when a too-thin woman in a flamboyant, sexy black dress came over. "Bond girl," Provenza muttered just before she got close enough to hear.

"Hello, gentlemen," she said. Her voice was low and husky, like sex personified. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

"Andy Flynn," Flynn said, holding out his hand. "This is my friend Tony Provenza."

"People call me Blackie," the woman said, taking Flynn's hand and caressing it. Provenza snorted softly. Blackie glanced at him and released Flynn's hand. "If you don't mind my asking, where are you from?"

"LA," Provenza said. Then, since she was Canadian, he clarified, "Los Angeles."

Blackie didn't look impressed.

Flynn shook his head and said, "Don't mind him, he's suffering from some bad memories."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He and his wife came to Twin Peaks on their honeymoon. Now that they're divorced..." Flynn shrugged.

"I'm looking to get lucky," Provenza said bluntly. Underneath his breath, he added, "Since I sure didn't get any from Anne."

"You are a fan of games of chance, then," Blackie said.

"I am," Flynn answered quickly. "Preferably blackjack."

"I'm just looking for a sure thing," Provenza said with a leer.

Blackie looked mildly disgusted, which was pretty much what Provenza was aiming for. "Of course," she said. "Mr. Flynn, if you go through that door, I believe you'll find what you're looking for. Mr. Provenza, if you would follow me?"

Provenza and Flynn exchanged smirks and Flynn went off to enjoy his favorite vice (that he was still allowed to indulge in, anyway). Provenza followed Blackie to a discreet door hidden behind a large plant. "So, Mr. Provenza, do you have any preferences or would you rather I brought out a selection?"

Provenza winced. She could just as easily be talking about livestock with those words. Still, he had a job to do, so he made his voice sound eager as he answered: "I like 'em young. But not too young. Legal."

"We can certainly accommodate you there," Blackie said, opening another door, this time to an empty room with a small bar and an archway in the far wall. "Why don't you sit down and get a drink. I'll send out a few choices for you."

"I can't wait," Provenza said with a forced grin. As soon as Blackie left, he went up to the bar. "Water." Off the bartender's startled look, he added in a buddy-buddy voice, "Don't want to disappoint the lucky lady."

The bartender did a bad job of covering up amused disdain, but Provenza didn't care. Sometimes you had to embarrass yourself; it was all a part of being undercover.

He figured he was going to have to remind himself of that a lot before he finished this gig.

He'd just taken his first sip when Blackie came back, leading a trio of lovely girls wearing next to nothing. The oldest couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen and Provenza felt a wave of pity and disgust. He might choose to date women who were a few years younger than he was, but he'd never stoop so low as to take advantage of a girl barely out of high school. Christ, they didn't even look like they were finished growing!

Of course, he didn't say that. Instead, he stood up and moved closer as he carefully looked the trio over. Two of them met his eyes boldly, while the third, a pretty girl with dusky skin, focused on his shoulder and nervously fiddled with the lace on her corset. Jackpot.

"Her."

Blackie smiled. "Excellent choice." She led the other two girls away.

Provenza looked over the girl who remained -- she was really pretty, with her clear dark skin and big brown eyes. She was also very nervous, though her smile was brave. "Follow me," she said.

She led him into a fairly small room that was dominated by a large four-poster bed. "So," she said with a fairly good attempt at a seductive smile. "What do you want?"

Time to put on a show. Provenza reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown prescription pill bottle. The girl watched with a baffled expression as he carefully tapped out a single blue pill and swallowed it down with his water. "It'll just be a few minutes," he said brightly.

"Oh, r-right," the girl said. She shifted her weight a few times, probably to take the pressure off of her feet. Those heels had to be killing her.

Provenza decided to take pity on her and sat on the bed. He patted the space next to him. "Might as well be comfortable while we wait," he said.

Looking relieved, the girl sat down and immediately slid off her shoes. "Uncomfortable, huh?"

"Torture," she agreed, sounding comfortable for the first time.

Provenza held out his hand. "Hi, I'm--"

"No!" the girl yelped. Provenza froze, then slowly took back his hand. "No names," the girl said. "I'm not supposed to tell you mine and I'm not supposed to ask about yours."

Crap. "Okay," Provenza said, folding his hands in his lap. He studied the wall. "What if we made up names?"

"What?"

"You know, like I could be John, because I'm a john."

The girl giggled. "And I could be Lisa."

"Lisa?" Provenza threw her a little side-eyed smirk that always put the ladies at ease. "Why Lisa?"

"I don't know," she said, playing with her lace again. "I guess I just think it sounds pretty."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," Provenza said. The girl giggled again. "Okay, Lisa it is." He smiled at her. "So, Lisa... tell me about yourself."

It was tough going at first -- her hobbies and her favorite foods were easy, but useless. What she did when she wasn't at the brothel was harder. He did learn that she'd been a sales clerk at the perfume counter of Horne's Department Store before she started working at One Eyed Jacks.

"How did you even find this place?" Provenza asked. By this point he and Lisa were both stretched out on the bed, sitting back against the headboard and propping themselves up with pillows. "I mean, it's in a whole other country!"

"Mr. Battis told me about it," Lisa said. "He's the one who said I'd be a good fit here."

"Mr. Battis?"

"He's the general manager at Horne's Department Store."

"Ah." Provenza slid down on the bed and tucked a pillow under his head. "So," he said casually. "Are you the only girl Mr. Battis thought would be a good fit for One Eyed Jacks?"

"Oh, no, lots of girls here come from Horne's." She leaned forward and added conspiratorially: "We all worked at the perfume counter."

"Really? All of you?"

Lisa giggled and nodded. God, she was so very young. "Lisa, can I ask you a question? It's kind of personal."

"Sure," she said, as brightly as if he were her best friend and not some asshole who paid for the right to fuck her.

"Am I your first, uh, customer? You seem a little, I don't know, new to this."

Of course, now she turned shy, tucking her face into the pillow. Still she answered, "Second. You're my second." She took a deep breath and added, "The guy who owns this place, he likes to be everyone's first, let them know what to expect."

"That's nice of him," Provenza lied. "Was it...okay?"

"It was fine," Lisa said. "I mean, it wasn't like it was the first time I'd ever had sex."

"Yeah, but I'm guessing it was your first time with a complete stranger."

"Weeeeell, he wasn't a _complete_ stranger." Lisa looked around the room, like there maybe was someone in there watching them, before leaning forward and whispering, "I knew him from the department store."

Provenza opened his eyes overdramatically. "Mr. Battis?"

Lisa laughed and smacked him lightly on the arm. "No, silly, Mr. Horne."

Provenza smothered his excitement, though it was an effort. He'd gotten way more than he'd expected and certainly more than the chief had asked for. Now it was time for a graceful exit, before something went wrong. With that in mind, he frowned.

"What's wrong?" Lisa asked.

"Nothing, really," Provenza said quickly, even as he sent a worried look at his groin.

"Wha--oh." Lisa reached into a small alcove over the bed and pulled out a cell phone. "It's been almost an hour," she said. "Is it supposed to take that long?"

"No, dammit, it's not." Provenza frowned, and dug out the bottle of pills. "Crap."

"What?"

"I grabbed the wrong...damn it!"

Lisa took the bottle and read the label. "So, uh, I guess we're not doing anything tonight." She sounded relieved, if anything.

"Guess not," Provenza said, dejected. He hung his head for extra verisimilitude. Suddenly he looked back up. "Lisa, honey, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure," she said, handing back the pills.

"If anyone asks, can you say, well..."

Lisa smiled and patted him on the cheek. "You were the best I ever had."

Provenza smiled back, touched despite himself. "Really?"

"Promise." She leaned forward for a quick kiss. "Now come on; you're already over into your second hour."

"And they say romance is dead," Provenza snarked as he crawled out of bed.

ooo

Provenza found Flynn sitting near the back of the casino with a considerably larger pile of chips than he could have possibly started with. "I see you're having a good night," he said as he sat down at the table. The dealer glared at him; Provenza loftily ignored him.

"Yep." Flynn smirked. "How about you?"

"I was the best she ever had," Provenza said grandly.

"Caught a virgin, huh?"

Provenza scowled. "Smartass. You almost done here?"

"No."

"Let me put that a different way: you're done here."

"But I'm on a streak!"

"Hey, whose comforting vacation is this, anyway?"

Flynn grumbled under his breath, but started dumping chips into a bucket. Provenza patted him on the back. "Now you can buy me breakfast tomorrow," he said soothingly.

Flynn just snarled.

ooo

Brenda finished reading the last page of the Log Lady's interview and sighed. "What time is it?" she asked wearily.

"After midnight," Gabriel said, sounding just as tired.

"Think Flynn and Provenza will be back soon?"

"You sent Flynn to a casino," Gabriel pointed out.

Brenda groaned. "That's it. We're sleeping in tomorrow."

"Thank God," Gabriel said. He climbed out of his chair and flopped back on the bed. Brenda considered the other half of the bed for a moment, then shrugged and joined him. "How many hours do you think we worked in the last two days?"

"Fifty," Brenda said with a sigh.

"You can only go up to forty-eight," Gabriel said, amused.

"It felt like fifty."

"Can't argue with that," Gabriel said with a sigh of his own.

They lay there in silence for a long while, long enough that Brenda was having to seriously work at keeping her eyes open. "Brenda?"

Brenda blinked and turned her head to find Gabriel watching her. "Yes?"

"What you said earlier, about how some teenagers have a lot of pressure put on them by their parents..." Brenda winced, knowing what was coming. "Were you talking about yourself?"

She considered her answer for a moment, debating whether she should answer at all, before finally sighing. "Yes and no. I rebelled, a _lot_, in middle school and the first couple of years of high school. By the time I straightened out, I had a lot of catching up to do. Mama and Daddy wanted me to get into a good school and so they pushed me to pull my grades up and to join a lot of extra-curricular activities to build up my college resume." She laughed softly. "By the time I was done, I had a three page resume."

More silence. Brenda gave David a few minutes to absorb that before asking, "What about you, David? Was there a lot of pressure at home?"

"Yes and no. My dad never went to college; he worked for Bell his entire career and by the time he retired he was making sixty thousand a year. He thought a good work ethic was more important than college and he expected all of us to get after-school jobs as soon as we turned sixteen. I couldn't do that, though -- I was determined to go to UCLA and get my degree and I knew I had to get a scholarship since Dad wouldn't have paid for it."

"So what did you do?" Brenda asked softly.

"We had a huge fight," David admitted. "Mom took my side, which is what saved me in the end. Dad never could say no to Mom."

"I'm guessing that made things stressful at home."

"Actually, no. My dad doesn't hold a grudge. Once he was convinced that I was going to college, he decided that I was going to be the best college-bound student in the school." He grinned. "I had a three page college resume, too."

Brenda smiled and was going to answer, but was interrupted by a knock. "Finally," she huffed, though if she were being totally honest, she wouldn't have minded them taking another hour or two. Still, she was there to do a job, so she rolled out of bed and headed for the door. By the time she let Flynn and Provenza in, David had abandoned the bed as well and was sitting on one of the room's chairs.

"So, how did it go?" Brenda asked the moment the door was shut.

"Great, Chief," Flynn said. "I won a couple grand."

Brenda rolled her eyes. "And did you learn anything while winning?"

"No sign of drugs, but the casino is a perfect place to launder money. U.S. dollars go in, Canadian dollars go out, and vice versa. It's possible they're honest, but I doubt it."

Brenda nodded; it wasn't quite as much as she was hoping for, but she'd never really thought Laura was connected to the casino side of Jacks. "Lieutenant Provenza?"

Provenza put one hand to his chest and announced, "I know who the owner of One Eyed Jacks is." He bowed. "Please, please, save your applause."

The other three stared at him. "And?" Brenda prompted.

"Mr. Benjamin Horne," Provenza said smugly. "And most of his working girls come from the perfume counter at Horne's Department Store."

"Well," Brenda said, a little stunned. "Excellent work, Lieutenant."

"Thank you," he said with a mock (and execrable) Atlanta accent. "Thank you so much."

Brenda glared at him, but she was too excited to be really upset. From what she'd seen, Horne was a slimy bastard and she'd love to get enough proof to nail him to the wall.

That was going to have to wait for tomorrow, though, because right now she was ready to drop. "I'll want full reports by the end of tomorrow," Brenda said. "And don't forget that extra assignment I gave ya'll."

Flynn and Provenza groaned. Brenda hid a smile. "Nice work, both of you."

They just grumbled their way out of the door.

"Guess I should head out too," David said with a sigh.

"I guess," Brenda said, smiling at him. "Thank you, David. For everything."

There was an awkward moment where they would have hugged, but Brenda was still the boss and David was still the subordinate.

"Well," David said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good night."

"Good night."

He let himself out and Brenda stood watching until the door clicked shut.

ooo

Brenda woke to a ringing phone. Still groggy with sleep, she fumbled for the room phone twice before she actually managed to get it off the hook. "Brenda Johnson," she mumbled into the handset.

A minute later, she bolted upright. "_What?_"

Tao repeated himself as Brenda started pulling clothes out of her suitcase and jerking them on. By the time she thanked him and hung up, she was half dressed, and she finished her hair in record time.

Not bothering with shoes, she opened her door and immediately started banging on Gabriel's. It took him a couple of minutes to open it, and he looked dead on his feet as he stared at her. "What's wrong?"

"I know who the killer is," she said. "Get dressed." She turned around before he had a chance to say anything and began banging on Flynn and Provenza's door. It was Provenza who answered, wearing nothing but tighty-whities. Brenda immediately shut her eyes and turned her head down to be on the safe side. "I know who the killer is," she said. "I need you and Flynn to get dressed. Suit and tie. Come to Fritz's room when you're ready. Bring Sergeant Gabriel."

"But--" Provenza started.

Brenda ignored him as she was already heading for her room and her shoes. She considered calling Fritz, but decided it'd be faster to just go straight up, especially since Agent Cooper was right next door.

Just before stepping back into the hallway, shoes in place and purse in hand, Brenda rested her head against her door. Today was going to be a hard day, a miserable day, and she didn't know if she had the strength to face it.

But there was no one else.

Steeling her resolve, Brenda lifted her head up high, opened the door, and swept into the hallway. She had a job to do.

Fritz was already dressed when he opened his door in response to Brenda's knocking. "Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yeah, I--"

"Great. I know who the killer is. We've got a lot of work to do." She took a step to the left and started knocking on Cooper's door.

It opened a second later. Cooper was also dressed, and his hair looked like it could survive a trip through a hurricane and not get ruffled. "Yes?"

"Come on over to Fritz's room; we've made some progress."

Cooper brightened and promptly shut his door. A moment later he was back in his hallway with his key, just in time for Brenda to hear familiar footsteps coming from farther down the corridor. How did men get dressed so darn quickly?

Once everyone was packed into Fritz's room (Fritz's eyes widened dangerously at the sight of Flynn and Provenza, but he glanced at Cooper and kept his mouth shut), Brenda said, "I might know who the killer is."

Cooper immediately perked up, while her own people exchanged glances at the word 'might'. No one said anything out loud, however, and she soldiered on. "We have a lot of work to do, so let's get started. Agent Cooper, this is Flynn and Provenza; they're with me and have just arrived. Fritz, can you get identification for them?"

Fritz gritted his teeth. "Are you and Gabriel done with yours?"

Brenda considered that. "I think everyone in town knows who Sergeant Gabriel and I work for at this point."

"Then they can use yours."

Which would have been a problem with the original identification, as those had had her and Gabriel's names on them, but the new ones Tao had produced were more generic. "Perfect," Brenda said, pulling out her ID and handing it to Flynn. Next to her, Gabriel did the same for Provenza.

"Now that you're official, Lieu-- Flynn and Provenza, I'd like you to go to the hospital and question the staff to see if anyone saw Leland Palmer there three nights ago. Actually, I need one of you to question the staff. I need the other to guard Ronette Pulaski's room and to call me if she wakes up."

"Three nights ago," Cooper said thoughtfully. "That's when Jacques Renault died."

"Exactly," Brenda said. Flynn and Provenza started to leave. "Not so fast, gentlemen. I'm going to need a ride."

They exchanged a look, but obediently stopped near the door.

"S- Mr. Gabriel, I need you to track down the tape that James and Donna made of Maddie. I'd start with James." Gabriel nodded, hesitated for a moment, then left.

"Fritz, I need you to get those DNA results pushed through the FBI labs as soon as humanly possible. Focus on the semen samples taken from Laura. Agent Cooper, if you have any clout with the FBI crime labs, now is the time to use it."

Fritz nodded, pulled out his cell phone, stared at it balefully, and went to use the room's phone.

"Agent Cooper, I'm also going to need you to call Sheriff Truman and have him arrest Bobby Briggs. If he asks why, tell him obstruction of justice. And I need you to pick up the Palmers and bring them to the station, including cousin Maddie."

"What should I tell them?"

Brenda sighed. "That there's a break in the case."

Cooper's face lost most of its habitual friendliness. "And that break is?"

Brenda shook her head. "I can't tell you yet. Not until I'm absolutely certain."

Agent Cooper looked like he was about to protest; Brenda forestalled him by turning to join Flynn and Provenza. Over her shoulder, she called, "Oh, and Agent Cooper? Make sure Mrs. Palmer has her sedatives with her."

The trip to the hospital was mostly silent; Flynn and Provenza both knew her well enough by now not to push for information, so once they'd settled who was going to be asking the questions and who was going to be on guard duty, there wasn't much to say.

For her own part, Brenda wasn't up to saying much of anything at the moment. If she wanted to have any chance of surviving the interrogation of the killer, she was going to have to spend every moment between then and now preparing herself.

At the hospital, Flynn went off to find witnesses and Brenda led Provenza to the closed ward. Hawk was still on guard, though Brenda sincerely hoped someone had relieved him overnight. "Anyone come through?" she asked him.

"Just hospital staff and Ronette's parents," Hawk said.

Brenda bit her lip. "For the next twenty-four hours, I want no one to come through except doctors and nurses. No visitors, not even family."

If Hawk was surprised, he didn't show it. He merely nodded and got a little more comfortable in his chair.

"Oh, and Mr. Provenza here will be guarding Ronette's door."

Hawk glanced at Provenza, his eyes revealing a sharp intelligence as he worked through the why's and how's. All he said out loud, however, was, "Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you," Brenda said with a smile she didn't really feel. She knew she wasn't going to feel like smiling for a long time. "Thank you so much."

She got Provenza settled in in front of Ronette's door, then walked into Dr. Jacoby's room. His eyes were closed, but he was doing a crappy job of faking sleep. Brenda shook his arm, hard, and pulled out a tape recorder the moment his eyes opened. "Dr. Jacoby, I'm here to talk about Laura."

ooo

It didn't take her long to get what she needed from Jacoby, and she went straight to get Flynn's rental car. He had a radio to call in when he was done; someone at Sheriff Truman's office could come and pick him up.

The drive to the Twin Peaks sheriff's department took a little longer than it should have since she'd assumed that Da- Gabriel would be doing all of the driving this trip and hadn't spent as much time as she should have studying the map of the town. Frankly, she was grateful for the extra time. By the time she got to the station, she'd managed to get her mask fully in place.

The station was surprisingly empty, except for Lucy at the front desk. Brenda frowned. "Lucy? Where is everyone?"

Lucy took a big breath, as if girding herself for a long speech. "I don't know."

Brenda blinked. "Oh. Well, do you know when everyone will be back?"

Lucy sniffled. "No."

Okay. "Did a fax come for me?"

"Yes." She sniffled again and handed over a couple of sheets of paper. Brenda glanced at them, then carefully tucked them into her purse.

Lucy sounded about three seconds from bursting into tears, which was something Brenda just couldn't deal with today, so she said, "Can you tell them that I'm in the conference room waiting for them? Thank you, thank you so much."

The conference table was, as expected, completely covered with doughnuts. Brenda started to throw them all out when it occurred to her that no one on her team would have had time for breakfast this morning. Feeling a bit guilty, she dug out the doughnut boxes from underneath the table and packed the doughnuts up instead.

She didn't quite feel guilty enough to deal with a crying Lucy, however, so Brenda piled the boxes on a chair just outside the conference room and went back inside to plan her strategy.

ooo

Fritz was the first to make an appearance. "Official DNA results from the rape kit should be in by tomorrow morning at the latest," he announced.

"Good," Brenda said, slumping back in her chair. At least she wouldn't have to worry about having to let the killer go if she couldn't get a confession. "Would you like a doughnut?" she added. "They're on the chair just outside the door."

Fritz looked a bit green. "No, I would not like a doughnut. What I would like is the name of the killer and how the hell you figured out who he is."

Brenda opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the conference room door opened and Agent Cooper stuck his head in. "The Palmers are here."

If looks could kill, Cooper would have expired under the force of Fritz's glare. Brenda just sighed and said, "You might as well put them in here. Just the Palmers; have Maddie wait in an office." As she and Fritz walked out, she added, "What about everyone else?"

"No word from your guys, but Harry came back with the 'package'." Cooper touched the side of his nose and then winked, just in case she didn't get it.

She didn't smack him, but she sure did want to.

Wandering around the sheriff's offices was much less conducive to prepping, so Brenda found a seat in a corner, sat down and shut her eyes. Really, she'd prepped as much as she was able. Now she just needed Gabriel to get here with that tape so she could get started.

Between her deep breathing and her focus on thinking about nothing at all, Brenda had almost managed to fall asleep by the time she heard Gabriel's voice gently ask, "Chief? You okay?"

"Fine, Sergeant," she lied, opening her eyes. "Did you get the tape?"

"Yeah. I already put it in the VCR in the conference room. Sorry it took so long, but Maddie had the tape and by the time we got to the Palmers, she was already gone."

Brenda sighed. "Who broke in and got it?"

"Donna. She had a spare key."

Not perfect, but acceptable. It wasn't as if they were going to use this tape in court anyway. "Please tell me you didn't bring Donna here."

"I sent her home with James."

"Thank you." She girded herself and stood up. "I'll want you and Agent Cooper in the interview, but don't say anything."

"I can do that, Chief."

Brenda smiled, despite herself. It was good to know that she wouldn't be alone in there.

Agent Cooper was equally willing to simply observe -- Brenda had a sneaking suspicion that he was viewing this entire exercise as a novelty show, but as long as he kept quiet, she didn't care.

At the door she remembered something important. "Gentlemen, I expect that at some point during this interview, Mrs. Palmer will become hysterical. At that point, I'll need you to both hustle her out of the room and to get her to Maddie. Don't come back in, but keep the door cracked and listen, just in case."

Gabriel, who knew what 'just in case' usually meant, winced. Cooper just nodded cheerfully.

One more deep breath and then Brenda opened the door. Showtime.

The first thing Brenda noticed was that while Leland and Sarah Palmer were seated in adjacent chairs, the chairs themselves were farther apart than they had been when she'd left the room earlier. Interesting.

The second thing she noticed was that Leland looked awfully cheerful for a man who was sitting in a police station, waiting for news about the man who had murdered his daughter. He wasn't singing, thank goodness, but he was humming under his breath and he had a bright smile on his face.

Sarah, on the other hand, looked drawn and worn, and judging from the two cigarette butts in the ashtray in front of her, she'd already started chain smoking.

Brenda smiled at them, her expressions responding easily to her command now that she was in her zone. "Hello Mrs. Palmer, Mr. Palmer," she said, sitting down and making a fuss of finding a place to set her purse. Gabriel and Cooper sat on either side of her. "Sorry to drag you down here, but we've made a bit of progress in the case and I thought you'd like to know."

"Progress?" Sarah asked, her hand shaking so badly that the ash tip of her cigarette fell to the table.

"Yes, I thought you'd be happy to hear that," Brenda said gently. "But first, I have a few questions for you. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Leland said jovially. Sarah just nodded dully.

"Why, thank you." Brenda beamed. "Now, Leland -- can I call you Leland?" He nodded, beaming right back. "Thank you so much. Leland, can you tell me about your relationship with your daughter?"

Out of the corners of her eyes, Brenda saw both Gabriel and Cooper straightening in their seats. Well, neither man was an idiot. Undoubtedly they had had their suspicions from the moment she'd asked Cooper to bring the Palmers to the station.

Leland, on the other hand, just looked mildly baffled. "My relationship with Laura?"

Brenda nodded, keeping her face and body language unthreatening. After a moment, Leland's smile, which had briefly fled at the question, returned. "Laura was...Laura was my light," he finally said, his smile turning wistful. "My little baby girl."

"Sounds like you really loved her," Brenda said softly.

"I did," Leland answered, his face positively glowing with the joy of his memories.

"And Laura, did she love you?"

"Of course," Leland said, sounding surprised. "All children love their parents."

"Ah, but some children love one parent more than the other." Brenda leaned forward. "Was Laura a daddy's girl?"

Leland smiled. "She was."

Brenda turned to Sarah. "Sarah, do you think Laura and Leland were especially close?"

"Why wouldn't they be?" Sarah asked bitterly. "With him taking her on all of those trips, just the two of them."

"Trips?" Brenda asked carefully.

Sarah snorted. "Camping trips." Cooper twitched, but Sarah didn't seem to notice as she added with a sneer, "Father-daughter bonding time, he called it."

"So you didn't go on these trips," Brenda asked.

Sarah shook her head miserably.

"Sarah isn't much of a camper," Leland said fondly. "But Laura loved those trips."

Brenda ignored him. "Sarah, how did Laura seem after going camping with her father?"

Sarah frowned, looking slightly more alert than she had before. "Tired, I guess. Usually she went straight up to her room."

"How long did she usually stay in her room?"

"Till the next day, when I woke her up for school."

Brenda quickly glanced at Leland. He wasn't smiling now. "Sarah, did Laura ever act reluctant to go camping with her father?"

Sarah stubbed out her cigarette and sat upright. "Yes, she did. For a few months when she was seven, she said she didn't like camping anymore."

"And what did you do then?"

"I told her she was being ridiculous," Leland interrupted. "She'd always loved camping before."

"Maybe she just lost the taste for it," Brenda said with a shrug. "Kids change."

"It was those girls at school," Leland said. "They told her that girls didn't go camping."

Now Sarah was staring at her husband as if she'd never seen him before. She just needed one more push...

Brenda leaned over the table. "Maybe. Or maybe Laura was tired of being Daddy's. Little. Girl." She drew out the last three words, letting disgust color her voice.

"You son of a bitch!" Sarah screamed. "You motherfucking son of a bitch!" She launched herself at Leland and Brenda thought Gabriel and Cooper were a little slow to pull her off. She couldn't blame them.

"How dare you?" Leland hissed as Sarah was dragged from the room. Judging from the volume of the screams, Gabriel and Cooper had followed instructions and left the door cracked open. "How dare you imply that I would hurt my little girl like that?"

Brenda reached into her purse, pulled out the DNA results that Tao had faxed to her, and slapped them on the table. "Do you know what those are, Mr. Palmer?"

Leland stared at her for a moment before picking up the papers and looking through them. Brenda gave him a second to take them in before telling him: "Those are the DNA results from Laura Palmer's rape kit. _Your daughter's_ rape kit."

"I don't--" Leland shook his head. "I don't know what this means."

Brenda didn't even have to look at the paper. She'd never forget what it said. "On the second page. DNA 1 was Laura's, DNA 2 unknown, DNA 3 unknown, and DNA 4 unknown, but with a 50% match to Laura's." She leaned forward. "Laura's assailant, the one who raped and killed her? Was related to her. In fact, he was either her brother or her father. And we both know Laura didn't have a brother."

"But I never, I would _never_..." Leland's head suddenly dropped to the table and he wailed, "_Laaaaaauraaaaa_."

Brenda frowned. This wasn't what she expected. Usually molesters denied and denied and denied until they were faced with clear-cut, incontrovertible proof, at which point they tended to claim that their victim was at fault, that she tempted them, that she wanted it. Leland was acting, well, like a grieving father.

Fortunately, that wasn't the only ace she had up her sleeve. "Mr. Palmer, there's something I want you to listen to." She pulled out her tape recorder, rewound it, and pressed play.

_"This is Brenda Leigh Johnson, interviewing Dr. Lawrence Jacoby at 9:36 a.m. on March 6. Dr. Jacoby, I have a few questions to ask you about Laura Palmer."_

_"She's not dead. She's not dead."_

Leland's sobbing, which had gotten softer when Brenda turned on the tape recorder, now disappeared entirely, and he lifted his head just enough to see the recorder in Brenda's hand.

_"I know, Dr. Jacoby, you've already told us that. Can you tell me the last time you saw her alive?"_

_"Five days ago, in the park. She was in the park." _

_"And why were you in the park?"_

_"She sent me a video, a video of her holding up a newspaper. She told me to come and meet her, and I went there and saw her, but someone hit me before I could speak to her."_

_"Okay, Dr. Jacoby, th--"_

Brenda turned off the tape. Leland was sitting upright now, staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

"Is it true?" he whispered hoarsely. "Is she still alive?"

"I have the video tape Dr. Jacoby was talking about," Brenda said by way of response. She pointed the remote to the television in the corner and started the tape.

As James said, the tape was creepy -- Maddie was dressed up in a blonde wig, looking exactly like Laura as she turned to the camera and held up a newspaper with a date five days after Laura had been murdered. Brenda had never seen the tape before, and she had to fight to keep most of her attention focused on Leland as he watched raptly. She must have been at least a little distracted, because for a half second she actually thought she saw someone else sitting in Leland's chair: a tall, gaunt man with stringy shoulder-length black hair.

She blinked, and the moment passed. Leland was sitting in the chair across from her, his eyes glued to the television and the expression on his face was...anger?

"That bitch," he said his voice almost an octave lower than it had been before.

Brenda blinked again. "Excuse me?"

"That _bitch_! Still walking around like a dog in heat."

Brenda was starting to get a very bad feeling about all of this. "Mr. Palmer, what--"

"I'm not Palmer," Leland spit. "Palmer is a weak-minded baby."

"If you aren't Leland Palmer, then who are you?" Brenda asked cautiously.

"Bob," the man said, his tone of voice putting the word in all capitals. "BOB."

Holy shit. Brenda rapidly re-evaluated her approach in the face of this new facet of Leland Palmer. "You thought you were in control, didn't you, _Bob_?" she asked snidely. "You thought you could break her, but she was too strong for you."

"She was just a slut," Bob snarled. "I rode her like the little bitch she was, until she begged for it. Nothing but a whore."

Brenda could feel the bile trying to rise up in her throat as she remembered Donna and Sarah's interviews, but she gritted her teeth and choked it down. "Not anymore, though," she said, keeping her voice steady, though it felt like the word were ripping themselves out of her throat. "She'd found other outlets. Maybe not the most healthy ones, but she was separating herself from you. She didn't need you anymore."

Bob smiled, his whole face twisted up into a hideous leer. "That's why I killed her. Bitch. No one gets away from me."

Brenda took a deep breath. It wasn't how she'd expected to close the case, but she had a confession. Questions of sanity were beyond her purview. "Well then, Leland Palmer aka Bob, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Laura Palmer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you--" Brenda yelped as Bob launched himself across the table. She stumbled back a few steps as the conference room door burst open and Gabriel, Cooper, and Fritz all came flying into the room. It took all three of them to wrestle Leland to the floor as Brenda continued the Miranda by rote.

"--can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as they've been explained to you?"

Leland Palmer's face twisted into an ugly sneer as he spat, "You're next, bitch. You think you're safe? You'll never be safe! I can find you anywhere, any time!"

"Close enough," Brenda said. At least with the tape still recording the interview, proving that she had read him his rights and asked if he understood.

Cooper and Fritz dragged Leland/Bob out of the room, literally kicking and screaming, and Brenda sagged back against the table. "Hey," Gabriel said, coming closer. "You okay?"

Brenda pressed her lips together and shook her head. She wasn't anywhere _near_ okay. She wanted to cry, she wanted to throw up, she wanted to kill someone. Out loud, she said, "Bathroom."

"Okay," Gabriel said, sounding really worried now. "We can do that."

A warm hand grabbed her elbow and an arm wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her. She allowed it until they got to the conference room door, then stood up straight, shrugging off the support. Gabriel didn't look offended, though he did scoot in front of her so that he left the room first.

Flynn was waiting for them in the hallway. "Hey, Chief, I--"

"Not now," Brenda croaked, moving as fast as she could to the bathroom without running. "Just give me a second."

She heard Flynn protest and then ask Gabriel something, but she didn't care what they were saying as she'd reached the bathroom. She immediately went into the nearest stall, fell to her knees, and retched into the toilet. Since there wasn't anything in her stomach, all she managed to bring up was a trickle of bile that burned her throat all the way up.

Suddenly, in the midst of her dry heaving, her hair was carefully pulled back from her face and a warm hand settled in the middle of her back, rubbing gently. She closed her eyes against a persistent stinging and let her body finish what it needed to do.

Finally it was over and she leaned back against the body that had been curled around her own. "You okay?" David asked.

She thought about it for a moment. "Better." If not by much.

"Ready to try standing up?"

"If I must," she sighed.

Between the two of them they got her up on her feet. David handed her her purse. Brenda managed a smile. "Bless you."

"Take your time," he said. "Flynn's watching the door."

That warranted another sigh, but there was nothing for it now. At least it was one of her team who had heard her fall apart, rather than Cooper or the sheriff.

Washing out her mouth took the longest time -- she would have kept on gargling forever if David hadn't produced a breath mint from somewhere, thereby securing him a permanent place in her heart. Makeup was faster since she had, thankfully, managed to keep from actually crying. Mostly it was a matter of concealer to cover up the shadows under her eyes and a bit of blush to make up for her sudden pallor. And, of course, a new layer of lipstick.

David watched the entire process with rapt attention until Brenda quirked an eyebrow at him. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just find women putting on makeup to be fascinating." Up went Brenda's other eyebrow. "You know, I think I'll go see if Flynn needs help at the door."

Brenda shook head as he fled, not quite up to smiling but feeling a fraction more human.

By the time she was outwardly presentable, she'd managed to get a relatively firm grip on her emotions. Which was a very good thing, because the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, she found herself facing virtually every law enforcement officer in Twin Peaks. She took a step forward and Gabriel and Flynn immediately stepped around to flank her. After a moment, Fritz moved to stand next to Flynn.

That just left her facing Agent Cooper, Sheriff Truman, Deputy Andy, and Lucy. She could handle that. "Are you okay?" Lucy asked.

"Just fine," Brenda said with a smile that made her face hurt. "Too many doughnuts on an empty stomach," she added, conspiratorially. Andy and Truman nodded knowingly, while Cooper looked utterly baffled at the idea that there could be such a thing as too many doughnuts.

Before anyone else could attempt to offer unwanted sympathy, Brenda asked briskly, "Leland Palmer?"

"In a cell," Cooper said. "He's not very rational at the moment, so we contacted Dr. Hayward."

"What about Mrs. Palmer?"

"Maddie took her home. Dr. Hayward is actually there now; he'll come here after he's taken care of Sarah."

"Good." Brenda turned to Truman. "Bobby Briggs?"

"We had him in a cell, but we couldn't just leave him in the same room as Leland, so we locked him in the closet."

Brenda shook her head. "In the _closet_?"

"It's a nice closet," Deputy Andy said defensively. "We put a chair in there and everything."

"Bobby was there when we put Leland in the cell. I don't think he's going to complain about being moved into a closet," Truman said. "What I don't understand is why you had us arrest him in the first place."

"He's been planting evidence all around town," Brenda said. "If I wasn't able to get a confession, I didn't want him corrupting the case."

"So we can let him go now?"

Brenda stared at him. "He's still planted evidence. Besides, I think you'll find that he's the one whose been dealing the coke Leo Johnson's smuggled into town. But, hey, it's not my town. If those things don't bother you then you just go right ahead and let him go."

Truman sighed. "Lucy, call Major Briggs and have him come down here with his lawyer."

Brenda turned to Flynn to cover a smirk. "Lieu, um, Mr. Flynn, what did you find at the hospital?"

"At least two people saw Palmer the night Renault was killed, Chief," Flynn said. "I couldn't pin anyone down for a time, though."

"Give your report to Sheriff Truman anyway. The more we can charge him with, the greater chance that something will stick."

"You don't think he's going to court, do you?" Flynn asked incredulously.

"He's definitely gearing up for an insanity defense," Brenda admitted. "Which means the more evidence we can pile on him, the better. The sheriff can follow up with the witnesses to see how Palmer was behaving that night. If he was acting like himself, the prosecutor might be able to get him on that, if nothing else."

Brenda closed her eyes for a moment, knowing that she was forgetting something. "Oh! Sheriff Truman, you can go ahead and cancel the closed ward at the hospital. Though I strongly recommend that you have a deputy on Leo Johnson's door at all times. In fact, you should probably just go ahead and handcuff him to the bed."

"With pleasure," Truman said.

"Oh, and can you ask Deputy Hawk to send Mr. Provenza back here? We need to get all of our paperwork done so we can head back home."

"And have him pick up some food on the way," Flynn added. Brenda shot him a look. "What?" he asked defensively. "I'm hungry."

"And you should eat something that isn't fried sugar," Fritz added.

Gabriel, who had the best angle to see Brenda's face, suddenly cleared his throat. "You know, why don't we go back to the conference room and start working on that paperwork now?"

"I think that's an excellent idea," Brenda said. She stalked to the conference room, Gabriel at her heels.

Fritz showed up a few minutes later with a two-inch thick pile of paper. Brenda whimpered. "We're not getting out of here today, are we?"

"We'd have to leave now if we wanted to catch the next flight out of Spokane," Fritz said apologetically. "I've already booked us for the first flight tomorrow."

Brenda sighed and grabbed the top sheet off of the stack. "Work fast, everyone. I want to get to bed early tonight."

In the end, it took nearly eight hours, and there was still a small stack of paperwork left. "This is mine," Fritz said, picking it up. "And I can do it later. After I figure out how I'm going to explain two additional people working on this case."

"If it makes you feel better, you don't have to reimburse LAPD for their time," Brenda said sweetly. "Just for the plane tickets, lodging, and incidentals."

"Plus, we found you a RICO case," Flynn said. "How many times do you get one of those just dropped on your lap?"

"That'll soften the blow, I'm sure," Fritz said with just a hint of sarcasm.

"Wait, we could get paid?" Provenza asked.

Brenda crossed her arms. "I don't know -- is whatever excuse you used with Chief Pope something that you can just take back?"

Provenza and Flynn exchanged a glance. "Never mind."

Brenda just shook her head and smiled.

ooo

She couldn't sleep. Despite getting less than six hours of sleep a night for the last three nights, surviving through not one but two emotionally and physically draining interrogations, and conducting more interviews than she wanted to think about, Brenda could. Not. Sleep.

Sadly, she wasn't even surprised by that fact. It just made her dread the next eight or so hours even more. God, she couldn't wait to get home. To her own city, her own house, her own bed. To her cat. She really missed Kitty right now, even if he never let her hug him.

She was coming up with a list of possible cat treats that might finally allow her to buy her cat's affection when she heard a soft knock at the door. "Oh thank goodness," she murmured under her breath as she threw aside her bedding and grabbed her robe. At least she wasn't the only one unable to sleep.

Her night got even better when she opened the door to find David standing on the other side, holding a plastic bag with 'RR Café' printed on the side. "Midnight snack?" he offered.

"You're my hero," Brenda told him earnestly.

He grinned and carried the bag over to the table. Brenda closed the door and quickly followed, curious as to what treat he might have brought. She felt an overwhelming rush of affection when he pulled out two small styrofoam containers, each one holding a piece of pie. "They were all out of cherry," he said apologetically. "But the waitress told me that the huckleberry is really good."

Without even thinking about it, Brenda wrapped her arms around Gabriel and held on until he hugged her back. "Thank you, David."

"My pleasure, Brenda," he answered softly.

They ate the pie slowly, talking about trivial things. Most of the conversation circled around what excuse Flynn and Provenza had used to get out of LA and how, exactly, Provenza had managed to question the prostitute at Jacks without rousing her suspicions. Especially since the man swore up down and sideways that he hadn't slept with her, but refused to divulge any more information on the subject.

Flynn had spent most of that conversation looking like he was trying really hard not to laugh.

No matter how slowly they ate, however, the pie eventually had to run out. "Thank you, David," Brenda said again. "That was really good."

"You're welcome," David said. His eyes were fixed on his own empty container and Brenda felt a sudden stirring of unease in her stomach.

He looked up and that unease turned into outright anxiety. "Brenda, can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Brenda closed her eyes. She'd known this was coming at some point -- she always took rape cases harder than any others and this wouldn't be the first time someone asked why. "Go ahead," she said.

David hesitated, probably because she still had her eyes closed, but he forged ahead. "The interrogation...well, it seemed to hit you harder than they usually do."

Brenda shook her head and opened her eyes. "Don't beat around the bush, David. Just ask it."

Another hesitation, this one much longer, before David whispered, "Were you raped? As a child?"

Normally when people asked a variation on this question, Brenda fobbed them off by saying that it had happened to a friend of hers and maybe if David had asked this question last week she might have done it to him as well. Instead she lifted her head and locked her eyes on his. "Yes."

He let out a huge sigh. "Oh, Brenda. I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago," she said.

"It never goes away," David said bitterly.

Brenda stared at him. "You?"

"My sister," he said softly.

Brenda considered him for a moment before standing up and holding out her hand. David eyed it for a second before taking it into his own and letting her use it to pull him to his feet. "Come on," she said, leading him to the bed.

"I don't think this is a good idea," David said, sounding like he wouldn't mind being convinced otherwise.

"We're not going to do anything," Brenda said. "Not as long as I'm your supervisor." She pushed him gently to the bed and waited. After a moment, he scooted over to the other side and stretched out. "Not that I'm not tempted," she admitted with a wry smile. She pulled off his shoes and carefully set them on the floor before climbing into the bed next to him.

David shifted his arm and she lifted herself up so that he could wrap an arm around her shoulders. When she laid back down, she rested her head on his chest. "Comfy?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Very," she answered.

"You know, I'm not going to be a police officer forever."

"So you've said." Brenda smiled. "Though I wouldn't normally encourage someone to enter into politics..." She let it trail off teasingly.

"Public service," David said. "Not politics. Taylor's the one who likes political games. I just want to do some good."

"You will," she said softly. "I know you will."

They both fell silent, David staring up at the ceiling and Brenda letting his heartbeat under her cheek soothe her until she felt comfortable enough to begin. "It happened when I was twelve." David didn't ask what she was talking about, he just held her a little closer and listened. "My uncle was between jobs and was staying with us for a while until he could find work. Daddy wasn't thrilled about it, but Mama didn't mind as long as he was willing to babysit." Her voice cracked on that last word and she stopped talking, her throat too tight to speak. Gentle fingers ran through her hair as she composed herself.

When she felt she could speak again without crying, she continued, "It went on for a couple of months before I got courageous enough to tell Mama." Her voice cracked again and she gave up on not crying in favor of just getting the story over with. "Mama, she was great. Believed me right off, threw my uncle out, and called the police on him. But you know, I didn't see all of that. All I knew was that Mama had left me alone with a man who had hurt me, and I was so angry." She managed a watery grin. "Twelve-year-olds aren't known for their logic."

"No they're not," David agreed, still running his fingers through her hair.

"Anyway, I was angry for a long time. Really hurt my family in the process."

"I'm sure they understood," David said gently.

"Oh, they did. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with a rebellious teenager, though." Brenda sighed.

"Did you talk to someone after it happened? A psychologist?"

"Daddy doesn't believe in shrinks," Brenda said. "And, well, I'm not much better."

"Somehow I don't find that at all hard to believe," David said dryly. Brenda smacked him lightly on the stomach. "Okay, then, not a psychologist. What about your mother?" Brenda shook her head. "Father?" Nope. "Husband?"

"I didn't even think about telling Kyle," Brenda admitted. "Probably should've been a warning right off the bat."

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't think my sister's told her husband, and they've been happily married for almost ten years now."

Brenda smiled a brittle smile. "Kyle and I didn't even make it to five."

"So he wasn't right for you. You'll meet someone who is." He cleared his throat. "Maybe you already have."

Brenda tilted her head up to see David had tilted his own head to look at her. If she pushed up a few inches or if he scooted down a few, they could be kissing. "It's probably time to call it a night," she murmured.

"I guess," he whispered back.

They stared at each other a few seconds longer, until Brenda sighed and sat up. David didn't try to stop her. "I'm think we need to take a step back when we get to LA," she said, not looking at him.

"I agree," David said. "For now."

Brenda smiled at him over her shoulder, but didn't turn around until he had put on his shoes and walked to the door. "Good night, David."

He smiled at her, the sweetest smile she'd ever seen. "Sweet dreams, Brenda."

ooo

The drive back to the airport was nearly silent. Fritz was clearly still holding a grudge over the unexpected expenses for this trip and Brenda was reconstructing her personal boundaries with regards to David. No. Gabriel. She assumed that he was doing the same, though he spent most of his time staring out of the window of the car so maybe he was just enjoying this last bit of temperate rain forest before returning to the overly-planned desert that was LA.

The flight was even worse, as it had been overbooked and they were all on standby. Everyone made it on the flight, but no one was sitting together.

As a result, Brenda was tired and cranky when she got off the plane, and in no mood to deal with Fritz, her lieutenants, or even D- Gabriel. Unfortunately, D- _Gabriel_ had given her a ride to the airport, so unless she wanted to spend a small fortune on a taxi, she was getting a ride with one of her team. She picked Gabriel as the lesser of all evils.

"Do you need me to pick you up tomorrow, Chief?" Gabriel asked as they pulled into rush hour traffic.

Brenda groaned. She'd forgotten that her car was still in the shop. "Please. And could you take me to get my car after work?"

"Sure thing."

"Thank you."

More awkward silence until Gabriel said, with the attitude of someone who was going to make the best of things _no matter what_, "So what are you getting Tao for the DNA results and for coming up with that virus?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead yet," Brenda admitted. "What do you think?"

"Well, I think he was the one to get forensics hooked on Kahlua. Or did they get him hooked?" Gabriel shrugged. "I don't remember. Anyway, he likes it."

"That's a good idea. Thank you." And, since he had made the first step in keeping the awkward silence at bay, she decided she should contribute as well. "Do you think anyone rescued Flynn's report from the trash? I'd hate for him to have to redo it."

"If no one did, I'm sure we'll all hear about it," Gabriel said dryly. "For weeks."

"He does hold a grudge."

"I'll say," Gabriel said. "Did I tell you about the time in Robbery Homicide when..."

As Gabriel launched into a story of his Robbery Homicide days, Brenda glanced at him and smiled. They were going to be just fine.

ooo

The next day, Pope called her into his office before she even had a chance to make it to the murder room. "Nice work," he said. "It's always nice when our guys solve something in two days that the FBI's been fumbling over for a week."

"Well, we did have more resources," Brenda demurred.

Pope waved that away. "Still, well done. Congratulate Gabriel for me as well. Oh, and give Provenza my condolences."

Brenda blinked. "Condolences?"

"Yes, for his mother. Poor guy was so torn up he had to have Flynn go with him to the funeral."

"Really? I'm so sorry to hear that. I'll be sure to pass on your regards."

She left before he caught her smirking.

As she made her way to the murder room, she found her smirk turning into a smile. It'd been a long, hard road to find her niche in the LAPD, but she finally felt like she truly fit in. Her peers respected her, her supervisor was impressed with her (and apparently had given up on the idea of dating her, which was a relief), and she had the best damn team in the city. Life was good.

And as soon as she finished repressing everything that had happened in Twin Peaks, it would be even better.

She turned that last corner into the murder room and froze. There were streamers swaying gently on the walls, bunches of balloons tied to every chair, and a huge banner hung from the lights. It read: _Welcome Home, Chief!_ Her entire team was wearing party hats (some with more ill-humor than others; Flynn looked like he'd swallowed a frog) and as she stepped into the room, they all shouted, "Surprise!"

Brenda's smile widened until her cheeks hurt, and she felt her eyes sting a bit. "Thank you," she murmured as she stepped into the room, taking in the careful decorations and the grinning faces of her team. She sniffed and grinned back. "Thank you so much."

End

Notes: For those who aren't aware of the history behind either or both shows, Twin Peaks is a supernatural drama set in the early 1990's and The Closer is a crime procedural set in the mid to late 2000's. Given the choice of changing one of the timelines, I chose to bring TP forward, though I did my best to ensure that Brenda and Co. had no special advantages (other than a fabulous team back in LA) in the solving of the case. DNA testing *was* around in 1990 -- in fact, it had already been used in court cases for a decade before. Probably the testing would have taken longer in 1990, but as Cooper and Rosenfield didn't even bother with DNA (or fingerprints), I felt it wasn't an unfair advantage to use modern DNA methods to speed up the resolution of the case. (Lynch and Co. apparently never intended for Laura Palmer's murder to be solved, which I'm assuming is why they avoided the issue of DNA. In the end, thanks to network meddling, the case was resolved when Leland/Bob tried to kill again in the middle of season two.)

BTW, if anything in this story seems too implausible or weird to be true, just assume that it's TP canon. 99 times out of a 100, you'll be right. Also, that chunk of exposition in the middle of the story (where Cooper and Rosenfield sum up what they've discovered in the case so far) comes directly from the first episode of Twin Peaks season two. I considered modifying and/or paraphrasing it for the story, but TP fans definitely got the short end of the stick in this crossover and I wanted to give them something more substantial than Cooper Quirks, even if it is just a famous speech from the series.

Finally, I want to thank my betas atlantisgrrrl and blackpapertiger, and my audience readers Meishali and (doing double duty) atlantisgrrrl. They made this story so much better (not to mention coherent for those who don't know TP canon:) Thank you, ladies!


End file.
